THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


E.   P.   ROE 


E.    P.    ROK    AT    THE    TIME    OF    HIS    DEATH. 


E.  P.  Roe 

Reminiscences  of  his  Life 

By  his  Sister 

Mary   A.    Roe 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 

t 
1899 


Copyright,  1899 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


? 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


OINCE  the  death  of  Edward  Payson  Roe,  in 
1888,  there  have  been  inquiries  from  time 
to  time  for  some  record  of  his  life  and  work,  and 
it  is  in  response  to  these  repeated  requests  that 
this  volume  is  issued.  While  necessarily  omitting 
much  that  is  of  too  personal  a  nature  for  publica 
tion,  the  editor  has  allowed  the  subject  of  these 
Reminiscences  to  speak  for  himself  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  although  it  has  been  thought  advisable  to 
introduce  here  and  there  various  papers  from 
outside  sources  that  seem  to  throw  additional 
light  upon  his  character.  It  is  believed  that  in 
this  way  a  clearer  picture  may  be  given  than 
would  otherwise  be  obtained  of  the  life  of  one 
who  was,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  American 
author  of  his  generation.  The  editor's  own  part 
of  the  work  has  been  confined  to  a  simple  state 
ment  of  facts  and  to  supplying  connecting  links, 


486534 

ENGLISH 


VI  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 

when  such  seemed   needed,  between  the  various 
letters  and  papers. 

Thanks  are  due,  and  are  hereby  offered,  to  all 
who  have  kindly  contributed  material  or  in  other 
ways  assisted  in  the  preparation  of  this  volume. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS  .....  i 

II.    LIFE  AS  CHAPLAIN 13 

III.  A  WINTER  CAMP 41 

IV.  MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD  RICHMOND  58 
V.    HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 70 

VI.  THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND  CHAPEL    ...  85 

VII.  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND  FALLS  ....  95 

VIII.  RESIGNATION  FROM  THE  MINISTRY     .    .    .  118 

IX.  FRUIT  CULTURE  AND  LITERARY  WORK  .     .  124 

X.    HOME  LIFE  . 137 

XI.    SANTA  BARBARA 154 

XII.  RETURN  TO  CORNWALL  —  LETTERS     .     .     .  18 1 

XIII.  LAST  BOOK  — DEATH 194 

XIV.  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.  ROE'S  BOOKS      .     .  218 
XV.  THE  TABLET  AND  MEMORIAL  ADDRESS  .    .  231 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


E.  P.  ROE  AT  THE  TIME  OF  HIS  DEATH  .     .  Frontispiece 

TO    FACE    PAGE 

E.  P.  ROE  AS  A  STUDENT 10 

E.  P.  ROE  AS  CHAPLAIN,  AGE  26 38 

VIEW  FROM  THE  PlAZZA  AT  "  ROELANDS  "    ...  128 

THE  STUDY  AT  "ROELANDS" 152 

TAHLET  ON  BOULDER  IN  "  ROE  PARK  "     .     .     .     .  232 


E.  P.  ROE 

REMINISCENCES   OF  HIS   LIFE 
CHAPTER   I 

BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS 

MY  brother  Edward  and  I  were  the  youngest 
of  six  children,  and  as  he  was  my  senior 
by  but  a  few  years  we  were  playmates  and  almost 
inseparable  companions  in  our  childhood. 

We  were  born  in  a  roomy  old-fashioned  house, 
built  by  my  mother's  father  for  his  oldest  son,  but 
purchased  by  my  father  when  he  retired  from 
business  in  New  York.  A  more  ideal  home  for 
a  hapoy  childhood  could  not  easily  be  found. 
It  stood  near  the  entrance  of  a  beautiful  valley 
through  which  flowed  a  clear  stream,  and  was 
wind-sheltered  by  high  bluffs,  yet  commanded  fine 
views  of  the  mountains  with  glimpses  of  the  Hud 
son  showing  like  lakes  between  them. 

What  we  called  the  "  side-hill,"  back  of  the 
house,  was  our  chief  playground.  My  brother 
delighted  in  climbing  the  hickory  and  chestnut 


2  BOYHOOD   AND  COLLEGE   DAYS 

trees  that  grew  upon  it,  and  it  was  here  in  spring 
that  we  searched  for  wild  flowers,  from  the  little 
hepaticas  just  peeping  above  the  snow,  to  the 
laurel  in  its  full  glory.  In  after  years  Edward 
never  visited  the  old  home  without  a  tramp  to  the 
top  of  that  side-hill  or  along  the  wood-road  at  its 
base. 

Our  mother  was  always  an  invalid,  and  the 
housekeeper,  Betsey  Williams,  who  was  a  member 
of  our  family  for  many  years,  became  like  a  second 
mother  to  us  in  her  care  and  devotion.  But  she 
was  no  disciplinarian,  and  I  have  heard  that  when 
Edward  was  in  a  childish  passion  and  she  felt 
unable  to  cope  with  the  situation  she  would  pick 
him  up  bodily  and  carry  him  to  my  mother's 
couch.  There  he  would  sit  beside  her,  not  daring 
to  move  until  he  could  promise  obedience,  held 
spellbound  by  the  authority  in  her  keen  black  eyes, 
though  she  was  too  weak  to  raise  her  hand  to  her 
head. 

Edward's  love  of  nature  was  inherited  from  both 
father  and  mother.  Often,  on  lovely  June  days, 
he  would  draw  mother's  wheeled  chair  through  the 
broad  walks  of  our  large  square  garden,  where  the 
borders  on  either  side  were  gorgeous  with  flowers, 
while  I  gathered  and  piled  the  fragrant  blossoms 
on  her  lap  until  she  was  fairly  embowered.  Yet 
one  scarcely  missed  those  that  were  plucked. 


BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS        3 

Back  of  the  garden  ran  a  clear  brook,  the  over 
flow  from  a  spring  of  soft,  cool  water  at  the  base 
of  the  side-hill,  and  in  it  we  often  played  and  tum 
bled,  soaking  and  soiling  many  a  fresh  clean  suit. 

As  is  usually  the  case  with  younger  sisters,  I 
always  followed  my  brother's  lead,  and  one  sum 
mer  day's  adventure  in  particular  stands  clearly  in 
my  memory.  We  little  children  had  started  off 
with  the  avowed  intention  of  looking  for  wild 
strawberries.  We  had  secretly  planned  to  visit  the 
old  house  where  my  mother  was  born,  which  was 
some  distance  farther  up  the  valley  and  at  that  time 
was  unoccupied,  but  we  thought  it  best  not  to 
make  any  announcement  of  this  project  in  advance. 

Edward  had  heard  that  in  the  cellar  there  was  a 
stone  vault  in  which  our  Grandfather  Williams 
kept  the  money  that  General  Washington  had  en 
trusted  to  his  care  until  it  was  required  to  pay  off 
the  soldiers  of  the  Revolution  while  they  were  en 
camped  near  Newburgh.  Edward  was  eager  to 
visit  the  cellar,  thinking  that  possibly  there  might 
still  be  a  few  coins  left.  We  entered  the  empty 
house  by  a  back  door  and  wandered  through  the 
rooms,  he  entertaining  me  the  while  with  stories 
mother  had  told  him  of  her  childhood  there. 

Then  we  timidly  groped  our  way  down  into  the 
large  cellar  and  found  the  stone  vault  —  but  it  was 
filled  only  with  cobwebs  and  dust ! 


4        BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS 

When  we  came  out  and  stood  in  the  great 
kitchen  Edward  told  me  another  Revolutionary 
story  connected  with  the  spot  in  our  great-grand 
mother's  day. 

A  company  of  British  soldiers  had  been  quar 
tered  upon  the  family,  and  the  old  kitchen  swarmed 
with  redcoats  and  negro  servants,  for  those  were 
still  days  of  slavery  in  the  North.  Grandmother 
Brewster,  who  was  a  notable  cook,  had  just 
placed  in  the  heated  brick  oven  a  large  baking 
of  bread,  pies,  and  cake.  One  of  the  soldiers 
asked  her  if  they  could  have  these  good  things 
provided  they  could  take  them  away  without  her 
knowledge,  but  while  she  was  in  the  kitchen.  She, 
believing  this  impossible,  said  yes.  He  waited 
until  everything  was  removed  from  the  oven  and 
placed  upon  a  large  table  to  cool.  Suddenly  a 
quarrel  arose  between  several  of  the  soldiers  and 
one  of  her  favorite  colored  boys.  Fearing  the  lad 
would  be  killed  she  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the 
crowd  and  at  length  succeeded  in  stopping  the 
fight.  When  at  last  peace  and  quiet  were  restored, 
she  turned  round  to  find  her  morning's  baking 
gone  —  and  in  a  moment  she  understood  the  ruse 
they  had  practised  upon  her. 

As  Edward  talked  the  whole  story  seemed  very 
real  to  us,  but  when  he  had  finished  we  walked  up  to 
the  old  oven,  and  looking  into  its  cavernous  depths 


BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS        5 

he  said:  "  That's  here  and  the  stone  vault  down 
cellar,  but  all  those  people  are  dead  and  gone. 
How  strange  and  lonely  it  seems  !  Let 's  go." 

Then  we  hurried  off  to  a  field  near  by  which  we 
called  "  the  rose-patch."  Not  far  from  this  spot 
stood  formerly  an  old  mill  where  snuff  was  manu 
factured,  and  the  rose-bushes  that  in  bygone  days 
had  yielded  their  blossoms  to  scent  the  snuff  were 
still  living  and  flowering.  But  among  the  roses 
was  an  abundance  of  wild  strawberries,  and  the  two 
children  soon  lost  all  thoughts  of  the  past  in  their 
enjoyment  of  the  luscious  fruit.  But  the  old  de 
serted  house  with  its  Revolutionary  associations 
never  ceased  to  have  great  attractions  for  us. 
Across  the  road  from  it,  and  nearer  the  creek,  was 
a  mound  of  cinders  marking  the  spot  where  once 
stood  the  forge  upon  which  our  grandfather 
wrought  the  great  iron  chain  which  was  stretched 
across  the  Hudson  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
British  ships  from  sailing  beyond  it.  Some  links 
of  this  chain  are  now  kept  as  relics  in  the  Washing 
ton  "  Headquarters  "  at  Newburgh. 

In  later  years  Edward  planned  to  write  a  story 
entitled  "  The  Fair  Captives  of  Brooklyn  Heights," 
embodying  some  incidents  in  the  lives  of  our 
Grandfather  Williams'  sisters,  who  lived  there 
with  their  widowed  mother.  During  the  Revolu 
tion  a  number  of  British  officers  installed  them- 


6        BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS 

selves  at  her  house,  and  the  old  lady  promptly 
locked  up  her  daughters  in  order  to  prevent  any 
possible  love-making.  One  of  the  girls  eluded 
her  vigilance,  however,  married  an  officer,  and  fled 
with  him  to  Canada.  She  returned  after  the  war 
was  over,  but  her  mother,  who  had  never  forgiven 
the  deception,  refused  to  receive  her,  and  she  and 
her  husband  went  to  England  to  live. 

In  our  home  at  Moodna  was  always  to  be  found 
a  generous  hospitality.  Among  our  most  loved 
and  honored  guests  was  Dr.  Samuel  Cox,  who  was 
for  many  years  a  prominent  clergyman  in  New 
York  and  Brooklyn.  My  father  had  been  a  mem 
ber  of  his  church  and  they  were  lifelong  friends. 
Often,  in  summer,  he  and  his  family  spent  weeks 
at  a  time  with  us,  and  we  children,  as  well  as  our 
elders,  were  always  charmed  listeners  to  his  con 
versation.  He  had  a  fine  memory,  and  it  was 
remarkably  well  stored  with  classic  poetry. 
Sometimes  he  would  entertain  us  with  selections 
from  the  "  Iliad,"  but  more  often,  when  other 
guests  were  present  and  Edward  and  I  were  seated 
on  the  piazza  steps,  on  warm  moonlight  evenings, 
he  would  repeat  whole  cantos  from  "  Marmion  "  or 
"  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  or  perhaps  some  fine  pas 
sages  from  "  Paradise  Lost." 

At  times  the  conversation  would  turn  upon  an 
cient  history,  and  I  remember  on  one  occasion  he 


BOYHOOD  AND   COLLEGE  DAYS  7 

asked  Edward  and  me  if  we  could  give  him  the 
names  of  the  first  Roman  triumvirate.  At  this 
period  of  our  existence  the  name  "Caesar"  was 
associated  exclusively  with  an  old  colored  man 
whom  we  often  visited  and  who  lived  upon  a 
lonely  road  which  is  still  called  "  Caesar's  Lane." 
We  were  vastly  astonished,  therefore,  to  learn  that 
the  name  had  ever  been  borne  by  any  more  illus 
trious  personage  than  our  dusky  friend.  But  we 
listened,  entranced,  while  the  doctor  told  of  the 
rivalries  and  conflicts  of  those  two  great  generals, 
Caesar  and  Pompey,  for  the  empire  of  the  world. 
He  could  not  remember  the  name  of  the  third 
triumvir,  and  it  troubled  him  greatly.  That  night, 
about  two  o'clock,  I  was  startled  by  a  loud  knock 
at  my  bedroom  door,  and  Dr.  Cox  called  out, 
"  Mary,  are  you  awake?  "  I  replied  that  I  was  — 
as,  indeed,  was  every  one  else  in  the  house  by  that 
time.  "It's  Crassus,"  he  said,  then  returned  to 
his  room  greatly  relieved  that  he  had  finally  re 
called  the  name.  Edward  and  I  never  forgot  our 
first  lesson  in  Roman  History. 

This  learned  clergyman  was  often  very  absent- 
minded.  During  one  of  his  visits  to  us  he  had 
been  for  a  drive  with  his  wife  and  our  mother. 
On  their  return  he  stopped  at  the  horse-block, 
near  where  Edward  and  I  were  playing,  threw 
down  the  reins,  and,  engrossed  in  some  train  of 


8  BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS 

thought,  walked  into  the  house,  utterly  forgetful 
of  the  ladies  on  the  back  seat.  They,  very  much 
amused,  continued  their  conversation  and  waited 
to  see  if  he  would  remember  them.  Finally,  how 
ever,  as  he  did  not  reappear,  Edward  was  called  to 
assist  them  from  the  carriage  and  unharness  the 
horse.  Some  time  afterward  the  doctor  rushed 
out  of  the  front  door  and  around  the  house,  having 
just  remembered  where  he  left  the  companions  of 
his  drive. 

The  first  school  Edward  and  I  attended  was  a 
private  one  for  boys  and  girls  kept  by  our  eldest 
brother  Alfred,  in  the  village  of  Canterbury,  two 
miles  distant  from  our  home.  We  trudged  over 
the  hills  together  on  pleasant  days  and  drove 
over  when  the  weather  was  stormy.  I  well  re 
member  the  abnormal  interest  we  felt  in  the 
health  of  an  aunt  of  ours  who  lived  near  the 
school  and  who  had  some  fine  fruit  trees  on  her 
place.  After  our  inquiries  in  regard  to  her  wel 
fare  had  been  answered  she  was  sure  to  invite  us 
to  examine  the  ground  beneath  those  trees,  while 
the  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes  showed  appreciation 
of  the  fact  that  our  devotion  to  her  was  not  alto 
gether  disinterested. 

Of  my  brother's  later  school  and  college  days, 
the  Rev.  A.  Moss  Merwin,  now  of  Pasadena,  Cali 
fornia,  writes :  — 


BOYHOOD  AND  COLLEGE  DAYS  9 

"  It  was  at  Cornwall-on-the-Hudson  I  first  met 
Edward,  a  fellow  student  in  his  brother  Alfred's 
classical  school.  His  face  and  manners  were  at 
tractive,  and  intellectually  he  ranked  high  among 
his  companions.  Well  informed  as  to  current 
events,  with  a  wider  knowledge  of  books  than  is 
usual  with  young  men  of  his  years,  and  with  great 
facility  in  expressing  his  thoughts  orally  and  ID 
writing,  he  commanded  our  respect  from  the  first. 
And  when  we  saw  from  time  to  time  articles  from 
his  pen  in  the  New  York  Evangelist  descriptive  of 
stirring  events,  our  respect  grew  into  admiration 
for  him  who  was  facile  princeps  in  our  small  liter 
ary  world.  Then  as  we  came  to  know  something 
of  his  kindness  of  heart  and  enthusiasm  for  the 
good  and  true  we  loved  him. 

"  His  particular  friends  among  the  boarding 
pupils  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  invited  occa 
sionally  to  the  hospitable  home  of  his  parents. 
What  a  home  it  was  !  Abundant  comfort  without 
ostentation  or  luxury.  The  father  a  retired  busi 
ness  man,  kindly,  philanthropic,  and  an  ardent 
lover  of  plants  and  flowers.  The  mother  an  invalid 
in  her  wheeled  chair,  a  woman  with  sunshine  in 
eye  and  voice,  of  unusual  intelligence,  highly  cul 
tivated,  with  charming  conversational  powers. 

"  In  the  little  Presbyterian  church  near  the 
school,  planted  mainly  through  the  exertions  of 


10  BOYHOOD  AND   COLLEGE  DAYS 

his  father  and  elder  brothers,  there  came  a  time  of 
special  religious  interest  when  Edward  was  deeply 
impressed.  With  loving  purpose  he  sought  out 
two  of  his  most  intimate  companions,  and  through 
his  instrumentality  they  then  began  the  Christian 
life.  One  became  a  successful  business  man  in 
Chicago,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death  remembered 
with  gratitude  the  helping  hand  and  earnest  words 
of  E.  P.  Roe.  The  other  friend  remembers  that 
soon  after  that  decision,  when  he  and  Edward  were 
walking  through  the  grounds  of  the  Friends'  meet 
ing-house,  they  covenanted  together  to  study  for 
the  ministry. 

"  We  were  together  again  preparing  for  college 
at  Burr  and  Burton  Seminary,  Manchester,  Ver 
mont.  How  enthusiastic  he  was  over  the  beautiful 
scenery  of  that  now  far-famed  summer  resort  in 
the  Green  Mountains !  How  delighted  to  send  his 
father  a  present  through  his  own  earnings  by  saw 
ing  several  cords  of  wood  !  " 

About  this  time  our  father's  property  in  New 
York  City  was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  owing  to  the 
expense  of  rebuilding  he  was  obliged  for  a  time  to 
practise  close  economy.  But  fortunately  it  was 
not  found  necessary  to  take  any  of  his  children 
from  school  or  college.  To  quote  Mr.  Merwin 
further:  — 

"  At  Williams  College  we   saw   much   of  each 


E.    P.    ROE   AS   A    STUDENT. 


BOYHOOD   AND   COLLEGE   DAYS  II 

other.  Roe  was  a  fair  scholar,  more  intent  at  get 
ting  at  the  meaning  of  the  text,  and  its  mythologi 
cal  and  historical  relations,  than  in  making  what  is 
called  a  fair  recitation.  His  ability  as  a  writer  and 
speaker  was  recognized  early  in  his  college  course 
when  elected  speaker  of  his  class  at  a  Washington's 
Birthday  banquet.  Friends  he  easily  made,  and 
with  many  remained  in  pleasant  relations  to  the 
close  of  his  life.  Trouble  with  his  eyes  caused 
him  to  shorten  his  course  at  college,  but  the  au 
thorities,  in  view  of  his  subsequent  success  as  a 
writer,  gave  him  his  diploma." 

My  brother  excelled  in  athletic  sports  in  his 
youth,  particularly  in  swimming  and  skating.  On 
one  occasion  when  he  was  home  on  vacation,  he 
and  a  young  companion  were  skating  on  the  river. 
His  friend,  who  was  skimming  along  in  advance  of 
him,  suddenly  fell  into  an  air-hole  and  sank  out  of 
sight.  Edward  instantly  realized  that  if  he  went 
to  the  spot  to  rescue  him,  he  also  would  break 
through.  With  quick  presence  of  mind,  therefore, 
he  unwound  a  long  worsted  muffler  from  his  neck 
and  threw  one  end  of  it  into  the  opening.  As 
soon  as  the  struggling  boy  rose  to  the  surface, 
Edward  shouted,  "  Take  hold  of  that  tippet  and 
I  '11  pull  you  out !  "  His  friend  did  as  he  was 
directed  and  Edward,  by  exerting  all  his  strength, 
succeeded  in  drawing  him  out  of  the  water  and 


12  BOYHOOD   AND   COLLEGE   DAYS 

upon  the  solid  ice,  fortunately  not  much  the  worse 
for  his  immersion. 

Adjoining  our  father's  property  was  that  of  Mr. 
Nathaniel  Sands,  a  "  Friend  "  and  a  gentleman  in  all 
that  the  words  imply,  who  was  loved  and  respected 
by  the  whole  community.  His  residence  com 
manded  an  extended  view  of  the  river  and  moun 
tains  and  especially  of  the  narrow  Gap  of  the 
Highlands.  At  his  death  the  old  homestead  be 
came  the  summer  residence  of  his  eldest  son,  Dr. 
David  Sands,  the  head  of  a  well-known  firm  of 
druggists  in  New  York. 

While  my  brother  was  at  the  theological  semi 
nary,  and  just  about  the  beginning  of  the  Civil 
War,  he  became  engaged  to  Dr.  Sands'  second 
daughter,  Anna.  The  young  people  had  known 
each  other  from  childhood,  and  this  happy  culmi 
nation  of  their  long  friendship  was  not  unexpected 
by  either  family. 


CHAPTER   II 

LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

ONE  of  Edward's  schoolmates  at  Cornwall, 
writing  of  him,  said  :  "  We  met  again  on  a 
most  memorable  evening  in  the  early  days  of  the 
war,  when  with  two  young  ladies,  one  of  whom 
became  his  wife,  we  rowed  out  on  the  Hudson 
River,  under  the  shadow  of  Storm  King,  while  the 
whole  sky  from  west  to  east  flamed  with  crimson- 
tinted  clouds,  that  seemed  a  portent  of  the  scenes 
to  follow.  When  we  reached  the  dock  on  our 
return  the  evening  papers  brought  the  details  of 
the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  fought  on  the  previous 
day." 

I  remember  Edward's  intense  excitement  on  his 
return  home  that  night,  and  his  remark  that  if  he 
were  only  through  his  seminary  course  he  would 
join  the  army  as  chaplain.  From  that  time  I 
believe  the  purpose  was  constantly  in  his  mind ; 
and  the  next  year,  1862,  although  his  studies 
were  not  then  completed,  he  became  chaplain  of 
the  famous  Harris  Light  Cavalry,  under  the  com- 


14  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

mand  of  the  gallant  Kilpatrick,  later  Brigadier 
and  Major  General,  who  was  always  my  brother's 
firm  friend. 

The  following  testimony  to  Edward's  work  among 
the  soldiers  was  written  upon  the  field  by  a  corre 
spondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune. 

"  Chaplain  Roe,  of  the  Second  New  York  (Harris 
Light)  Cavalry,  is  a  man  whose  praises  are  in  the 
mouth  of  every  one  for  timely  and  efficient  ser 
vices.  He  is  always  with  the  regiment,  and  his 
whole  time  is  devoted  to  the  temporal  and  spirit 
ual  welfare  of  the  men.  He  is  their  friend, 
adviser,  and  counsellor,  and  commands  the  respect 
of  all  who  know  him  —  something  that  cannot  be 
said  of  every  chaplain  in  the  army." 

The  Observer  of  that  year  also  published  a  letter 
written  by  a  private  in  the  Harris  Light  Cavalry  to 
his  parents.  In  it  is  found  this  reference  to  their 
chaplain. 

"  To-day  is  Sunday,  and,  as  a  great  exception,  it 
has  appeared  like  Sunday.  This  morning  we  had 
service  at  headquarters,  the  chaplain  of  our  regi 
ment  officiating,  and  I  think  I  can  safely  call  him 
a  pious  army  chaplain,  which  I  cannot  say  of  any 
others  that  /  ever  knew ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
little  respect  most  chaplains  have  shown  to  them, 
and  still  less  encouragement,  this  one,  by  his  mild, 
gentle,  manly,  humble,  and  Christian-like  de- 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  1 5 

meanor,  has  won  the  respect  of  all  with  whom  he 
has  had  intercourse,  from  the  most  profane  and 
vulgar  to  the  most  gentlemanly,  which  few  chap 
lains  have  been  able  to  do.  In  a  fight  he  is  seen 
encouraging  the  men;  in  the  hospital  administer 
ing  to  the  soldier's  wants,  both  spiritually  and 
bodily.  Last  winter,  during  the  worst  days  of  a 
Virginia  winter,  I  have  seen  him  going  from  camp 
to  camp,  distributing  his  books  and  papers ;  and 
with  his  own  earnings  he  would  buy  delicacies 
that  a  poor  sick  soldier  would  otherwise  in  vain 
long  for.  These  and  other  innumerable  like  acts 
have  gradually  caused  every  one  to  at  least  respect 
him,  and  some  to  love  him.  His  name  is  Rev.  E. 
P.  Roe,  Chaplain  Harris  Light  Cavalry.  I  have 
been  informed  that  he  had  just  graduated  when  he 

came   into   the   army.      I   think   Dr.    P may 

know  him.  I  believe  he  is  a  Presbyterian.  If  you 
had  any  idea  what  a  chaplain  had  to  contend  with, 
in  order  to  lead  a  consistent  life,  you  might  then 
understand  why  I  speak  so  of  him.  S." 

While  with  this  regiment  Edward  acted  as 
weekly  correspondent  for  the  New  York  Evan 
gelist.  A  few  of  his  letters  to  that  paper  are  here 
reprinted,  in  the  hope  that  they  may  still  be  found 
of  interest.  They  are  characteristic  of  the  writer 
and  give  a  clearer  idea  of  his  life  at  this  time  than 
can  be  obtained  in  any  other  way. 


l6  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

"CAMP  HALL'S  HILL,  Oct.  15,  1862. 

"  MESSRS.  EDITORS :  —  Till  within  a  few  days 
past  we  have  been  enjoying  splendid  weather,  days 
as  warm  and  sunny  as  those  of  June,  and  moonlight 
nights  so  clear  and  beautiful  that  one  could  sit  at 
his  tent  door  and  read  ordinary  type  with  perfect 
ease  and  pleasure.  Of  course  we  improved  such 
favourable  weather  and  held  our  prayer-meetings 
nearly  every  night.  I  shall  never  forget  one  re 
ligious  service  that  we  had  last  week. 

"As  usual  a  large  fire  was  kindled  in  front  of  the 
chaplain's  tent,  and  the  men,  having  disposed  of 
their  suppers,  were  beginning  to  assemble.  Soon 
the  musical  "  church-call  "  sounded  to  hasten  the 
lagging  ones,  and  by  the  time  our  exercises  com 
menced  about  two  hundred  were  present.  Our 
meetings  are  of  a  free  and  general  character, 
open  to  all  who  are  willing  to  take  part  in  them. 
We  commence  by  singing  two  or  three  hymns 
or  patriotic  songs  in  succession,  the  sound  of 
music  calling  the  men  together.  A  prayer  is 
then  offered,  after  which  I  endeavor  by  some 
anecdote  or  illustration  to  force  home  the  truth 
and  necessity  of  a  Saviour  upon  the  minds  of  those 
present.  The  Christian  members  of  the  regiment 
then  follow  in  prayer,  singing,  and  exhortation,  till 
we  are  dispersed  by  the  roll-call.  We  have  in 
terruptions  in  this,  our  usual  programme,  of  such 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  I/ 

a  nature,  and  with  such  frequency,  that  we  have 
great  reason  to  be  thankful  and  encouraged. 
They  are  occasioned  by  the  stepping  forth  of 
soldiers  in  front  of  the  fire  who  have  hitherto 
been  silent  in  our  meetings,  and  who  either  ask 
the  prayers  of  Christians  that  they  may  be  led  to 
the  Saviour,  or  calmly  and  firmly  state  their  in 
tention  to  enlist  under  the  banner  of  the  Cross, 
and  urge  their  comrades  to  do  likewise. 

"  Towards  the  close  of  the  service  I  have  men 
tioned,  three  young  men  rose  up  together,  and 
calmly  and  firmly  one  after  another  stated  their 
resolution,  with  God's  help,  to  live  a  Christian  life. 
O  that  some  of  our  cold,  half-hearted  professors 
could  have  been  here  then.  Would  to  God  that 
the  voices  of  those  young  soldiers,  as  they  urged 
with  simple  and  earnest  eloquence  their  comrades 
to  come  to  the  Saviour  likewise,  might  be  heard 
throughout  all  the  churches  of  the  North,  and 
sound  in  every  prayer-meeting,  in  our  land.  Such 
earnest  tones  and  words  would  soon  disperse  the 
moral  and  religious  apathy  that  seems  to  reign 
undisturbed  in  many  localities,  for  they  would 
prove  that  the  Spirit  of  God  was  present.  It  was 
a  scene  that  would  have  moved  the  coldest  heart, 
and  stirred  the  most  sluggish  nature.  The  starry 
sky,  the  full  moon  overhead  flooding  all  the  land 
scape  with  the  softest  and  most  beautiful  radiance, 


1 8  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

the  white  tents  covering  the  hillsides,  the  large 
fire  blazing  fitfully  up,  surrounded  by  two  hundred 
or  more  men  who  might  readily  be  taken  at  first 
glance  to  be  a  band  of  Spanish  brigands,  all  con 
spired  to  make  a  picture  that  any  artist  would 
wish  to  copy.  But  as  you  listened  to  the  words  of 
those  young  men,  and  the  earnest  prayer  and 
songs  of  praise  that  followed,  all  such  fanciful 
thoughts  of  banditti  and  romance  would  melt  away, 
and  the  strange,  peculiar  costume  of  those  present 
would  become  simply  the  ordinary  dress  that  the 
rude  taste  or  necessity  of  the  men  during  their 
campaign  had  led  them  to  assume,  and  the  dark- 
bearded  faces,  made  still  more  sombre  and  sinister 
by  the  partial  light,  would  resolve  themselves  into 
the  bronzed  honest  features  of  our  American  sol 
diers,  now  expressive  of  solemn  thought  and  feel 
ing.  Never  was  a  sound  more  unwelcome  and 
discordant  than  the  roll-call  which  broke  up  that 
assembly. 

"After  the  roll-call  a  group  generally  lingers 
around  the  fire,  and  I  often  find  in  it  those  v/ho 
wish  to  be  spoken  with  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
So  it  happened  this  night.  A  soldier  chanced  to 
be  passing  by  our  encampment,  and,  attracted  by 
the  sound  of  music,  stopped  at  our  meeting.  A 
few  days  before  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
home  stating  that  his  mother  was  very  ill  and  not 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  1 9 

expected  to  live  many  days.  He  knew  he  should 
never  see  her  again,  and  his  heart  was  tender  and 
sad.  Thus  prepared  for  the  truth  by  the  Provi 
dence  of  God,  his  steps  were  directed  to  us,  and 
as  he  sat  there  and  listened  to  those  three  young 
men  as  they  stated  their  resolution  from  thence 
forth  to  serve  God,  he  too  resolved  to  be  a  Chris 
tian,  and  has  since  found  peace  in  believing.  I 
told  him  how  our  prayer-meeting  had  been  started 
by  two  or  three  Christian  soldiers  meeting  openly 
for  prayer,  and  that  the  same  happy  state  of  things 
might  be  brought  about  in  his  regiment  in  a  simi 
lar  manner.  He  promised  that  the  prayer-meeting 
should  be  commenced. 

"  The  1 8th  of  this  month  (October)  was  as  beau 
tiful  and  bright  a  Sabbath  morning  as  ever  dawned 
on  Virginia.  Though  the  day  and  all  nature  spoke 
of  peace,  yet  men  would  not  hearken,  for  it  was 
soon  evident  that  our  brief  repose  was  again  to  be 
broken.  The  Third  Division  of  cavalry  was  en 
camped  on  the  northwestern  edge  of  the  old  Bull 
Run  battlefield.  The  day  before  we  occupied 
the  battlefield  itself.  The  earlier  part  of  the  day 
was  spent  by  the  different  regiments  in  preparing 
to  march,  and  by  noon  the  concentration  of  tlie 
entire  command  began.  Distant  outposts,  regi 
ments  on  picket,  and  scouting  parties  were  drawn 
in,  and  soon  after  the  battle-flags  of  General  Kil- 


20  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

patrick,  General  Davies,  and  General  Custer  were 
seen  fluttering  through  forests  or  over  hills  in  the 
direction  of  the  Warrenton  and  Alexandria  pike. 
Following  them  were  long  lines  of  cavalry  and 
artillery,  and  above  all,  a  bright  October  sun  that 
gave  to  the  scene  anything  but  the  grimness  of 
war.  As  evening  approached  we  came  out  on 
Warrenton  pike.  General  Davies'  brigade  had  the 
advance,  and  part  of  the  Harris  Light  Cavalry 
was  thrown  out  as  skirmishers.  It  soon  struck 
the  enemy's  pickets,  and  then  a  running  fight  was 
kept  up  until  within  a  short  distance  of  Gainesville. 
Our  flying  artillery  took  advantage  of  every  high 
position  to  send  a  shell  shrieking  after  the  enemy. 
It  was  now  dark  night.  The  head  of  our  column 
had  advanced  up  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
point  where  the  railroad  crossed  the  pike  before 
entering  the  village.  For  a  short  time  there  had 
been  an  ominous  silence  on  the  part  of  the  rebels, 
and  it  became  necessary  to  send  forward  part  of 
the  Harris  Light  Cavalry  to  find  what  had  become 
of  them.  The  detachment  moved  on  to  cross  the 
railroad  embankment,  when  suddenly,  from  over 
its  top,  at  a  given  signal,  a  line  of  fire  at  least 
three  hundred  yards  long  flashed  out  into  the 
night,  and  a  perfect  storm  of  bullets  rained  over 
their  heads.  Fortunately  the  enemy  fired  too 
high  to  do  much  execution,  and  only  a  few  were 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  21 

wounded.  Our  boys  returned  the  volley,  and  then 
retired  to  a  small  piece  of  woods,  and  for  a  time  a 
hot  skirmish  was  maintained.  Having  no  knowl 
edge  of  the  force  that  might  be  concealed  in  the 
place,  and  the  position  being  too  strong  to  be  car 
ried  by  a  night  assault,  further  operations  were 
deferred  till  morning.  The  ist  Virginia  were  left 
on  picket  close  to  the  enemy  and  the  rest  of  the 
command  fell  somewhat  back  and  went  into  camp. 
"  To  one  not  familiar  with  army  life  in  the  field, 
our  mode  of  encamping  that  night  would  have 
been  extremely  interesting  and  suggestive.  We 
were  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  which  is  no  place 
for  careless  security.  Each  brigade  was  placed  by 
itself,  supporting  the  batteries  which  were  put  in 
position  ready  to  be  used  at  a  moment's  notice. 
The  horses  of  each  regiment  were  drawn  up  in 
ranks  and  tied  to  stakes  driven  into  the  ground  for 
the  purpose.  Each  man  slept  at  the  head  of  his 
horse,  which  he  kept  saddled,  and  part  of  the  time 
bridled.  Within  three  minutes  the  entire  division 
could  have  been  out  in  line  of  battle.  I  have 
known  our  regiment  to  saddle  their  horses,  lead 
out  from  the  woods,  form  ranks,  count  four  and 
stand  ready  to  charge  into  anything  that  might 
oppose,  within  just  three  minutes  by  the  watch. 
In  the  rear  of  this  warlike  array  the  ammunition 
wagons  and  ambulances  were  parked  in  regular 


22  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

order,  the  team  horses  standing  ready  harnessed. 
Thus  Kilpatrick's  little  fighting  division  lay  there 
that  night  like  a  panther  crouched  ready  to  spring. 
During  the  night  wagons  came  up  with  rations, 
which  were  soon  distributed.  The  groupings 
around  the  fires,  after  this,  were  picturesque  in 
the  extreme.  Some  of  the  men,  shrouded  in  their 
great  military  overcoats,  stood  quietly  warming 
themselves,  throwing  out  immense  shadows  that 
stretched  away  till  lost  in  the  surrounding  dark 
ness.  The  dusky  forms  of  others  might  be  seen 
passing  to  and  fro  in  the  preparation  of  their  rude 
meal  of  fried  pork  and  hardtack,  while  the  flicker 
ing  blaze  revealed  the  burly  forms  of  a  still  greater 
number  reposing  upon  the  ground  in  all  varieties 
of  attitude.  At  last  the  entire  division,  except  the 
vigilant  pickets  and  sentinels,  was  wrapped  in 
slumber.  At  four  o'clock  the  bugle  sounded 
reveille,  and  the  camp  was  soon  all  astir.  Soon 
after  we  saw  a  flash  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy, 
and  listened  breathlessly  a  moment  for  the  report 
of  rebel  cannon,  but  the  long  interval  and  distant 
heavy  rumble  that  followed  satisfied  us  that  a 
storm  other  than  that  of  war  was  about  to  break 
over  us ;  and  soon  it  came,  with  high  cold  winds 
and  drenching  rain.  As  we  cowered  around  our 
smoking,  dying  fires  in  the  dim  twilight  of  that 
wild  October  morning  —  ah!  then  we  thought  of 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  23 

being  tucked  away  in  snug  feather-beds  under  the 
old  roof-tree  at  home ;  but  there  was  no  repining, 
though  we  all  knew  that  on  the  coming  night 
many  would  sleep  colder  than  ever  before  —  so 
cold  that  nothing  but  the  breath  of  God  could 
give  warmth  again. 

"  But  we  were  not  long  left  to  reflection  of  any 
kind,  for  regiment  after  regiment  now  began  to 
take  position  upon  the  line  of  march.  General 
Custer's  brigade  had  the  advance.  Soon  scatter 
ing  shots  and  an  occasional  boom  of  a  cannon  told 
us  that  we  had  again  found  the  enemy.  But  no 
stand  was  made  until  we  reached  Broad  Run,  and 
there  the  firing  became  rapid  and  sharp.  Our 
brigade  now  came  up  and  was  placed  in  posi 
tion,  and  the  battle  became  general.  Every  now 
and  then  a  shell  would  whiz  over  our  heads  and 
explode,  inspiring  anything  but  agreeable  emo 
tions.  Several  charges  were  made  on  both  sides. 
I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  to  give  any  idea  of  a 
rebel  charge.  Their  cries  and  yells  are  so  pecu 
liar,  so  wild,  shrill,  feverish,  so  ghastly  (I  had 
almost  said  ghostly),  for  the  sounds  seem  so  un 
real,  more  like  horrid  shrieks  heard  in  a  dream 
than  the  utterances  of  living  men.  The  shouting 
of  our  men  is  deeper  and  hoarser,  and  partakes 
more  of  the  chest  tone  in  its  character,  but  the 
rebels  charge  with  a  yell  that  is  something  be- 


24  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

tween  the  shriek  of  a  woman  and  the  scream  of  a 
panther.  At  times  you  can  close  your  eyes  and 
imagine  that  some  fierce  conflict  of  another  age  is 
passing  before  you  in  a  dream,  so  strange  and  un 
natural  does  it  seem  to  see  men  engaged  in  mortal 
combat.  We  finally  dislodged  the  enemy  from 
their  very  strong  position  and  advanced  across 
Broad  Run.  General  Custer  took  a  strong  position 
on  a  hill  above  the  stream,  while  General  Davies 
was  ordered  with  his  brigade  to  advance  as  far  as 
possible  toward  Warrenton,  for  General  Kilpatrick 
had  received  written  orders  to  move  out  as  far  as 
he  could  upon  this  road  in  order  to  discover  the 
force  and  intentions  of  the  enemy.  The  surgeons 
and  ambulances  halted  in  a  field  between  the  two 
brigades.  I  stayed  with  them,  and  was  trying  to 
get  a  feed  for  my  horse,  which  was  evidently  begin 
ning  to  feel  the  effects  of  long  marches  and  short 
rations,  when  suddenly  I  heard  firing  nearly  oppo 
site  us,  on  our  left  flank.  At  first  I  thought  it 
was  a  mere  skirmish  with  some  rebels  left  in  the 
woods  and  discovered  by  our  men ;  but  the  firing 
became  more  rapid  every  moment,  and  soon  Gen 
eral  Custer's  battery  began  to  shell  the  woods 
most  vigorously.  I  saw  that  the  woods  were  full 
of  men,  but  could  not  distinguish  ours  from  the 
rebels.  Two  or  three  aids  galloped  by  in  the 
direction  General  Davies  had  taken. 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  2$ 

"  One  remarked  in  passing,  with  an  ominous  look 
and  shake  of  his  head,  '  You  had  better  be  getting 
out  of  here,'  which  was  not  a  very  comforting 
suggestion  to  those  who  had  no  orders  to  '  get 
out  of  here  '  or  where  to  get  to.  It  was  very  evi 
dent  that  something  was  wrong,  and  that  matters 
were  getting  serious.  Wagon  and  ambulance 
drivers,  surgeons  and  their  attendants,  contrabands 
with  their  led  horses  —  in  short,  all  of  us  —  were  like 
a  covey  of  startled  quails,  their  heads  up,  aware  of 
danger,  but  not  knowing  which  way  to  fly.  We 
could  not  very  well  show  fight,  for  a  charge  by 
a  wagon  train  would  be  almost  as  great  a 
novelty  as  General  Kilpatrick's'  attacking  gun 
boats  with  cavalry,  which  he  actually  did  last 
summer  on  the  Rappahannock,  and  destroyed 
them,  too.  But  we,  not  at  all  envious,  were  glad 
to  receive  orders  to  retrace  our  steps ;  for  nothing 
is  so  uncomfortable  for  a  soldier  as  to  hear  firing 
in  his  rear.  We  were  proceeding  leisurely  and  in 
good  order,  when  an  orderly  rode  rapidly  up  to 
our  front  and  turned  us  off  on  a  by-road  through 
the  woods,  with  an  injunction  to  move  rapidly  and 
come  out  on  the  main  pike  near  Gainesville. 
Away  we  went  in  the  direction  of  Thoroughfare 
Gap,  the  wagons  banging  and  bouncing  over 
stones  and  stumps,  through  streams  and  mud- 
holes,  as  we  followed  the  sinuosities  of  a  narrow 


26  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

wood-road  which  finally  led  into  the  open  fields. 
Here  I  felt  like  crying  and  laughing  both  —  crying 
with  rage  at  what  I  then  considered  our  disgrace 
ful  retreat;  but  when  I  afterwards  learned  what 
odds  we  were  contending  against,  I  was  satisfied 
that  the  best  generalship  was  displayed  in  rapid 
retreat.  And  gravity  itself  would  have  laughed 
at  the  figure  we  cut.  Contrabands  and  camp  fol 
lowers  were  careering  by  in  all  states  of  panic. 
Many  had  lost  their  hats  in  coming  through  the 
woods,  and  it  seemed  in  some  cases  now  that  their 
wool  fairly  stood  upon  end,  while  they,  rolling 
their  eyes  over  their  shoulders  in  the  direction  of 
the  enemy,  exhibited  only  their  whites  to  the 
observer  in  front.  Here  might  be  seen  an  unfor 
tunate  darkie  hauling  on  a  stubborn  mule  that  with 
its  wonted  perversity  wanted  to  turn  around  and 
run  the  other  way;  there  a  man  trying  to  raise  a 
horse  that  had  fallen  with  him  ;  while  '  Git  up,  dar ; 
git  up,  I  tell  yer,'  resounded  from  every  side. 
Some  poor  mules  and  some  led  horses  fairly  got 
frantic,  for  what  with  the  beating  they  received, 
and  with  tin  kettles  rattling  and  captured  chickens 
cackling  between  their  legs,  it  was  enough  to  dis 
tract  any  brute;  so  they  kicked  and  floundered 
till  they  burst  their  girths,  and  galloped  away  re 
joicing  in  their  freedom.  But  the  comic  was  soon 
lost  in  the  tragic.  The  pursuing  enemy  was  now 


LIFE  AS  CHAPLAIN  2/ 

closing  upon  us  from  all  sides.  The  rear  guard, 
which  was  the  Harris  Light  Cavalry,  made  many 
a  gallant  stand,  but  what  could  a  few  men  do 
against  twenty  times  their  number?  With  many 
it  became  a  sad  race  for  life  and  liberty.  But 
before  dusk  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  effectually 
checking  the  enemy.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  found  myself  rallying  a  body  of  men  in  a 
fight.  Officers  and  men  coming  in  rapidly,  we 
soon  had  a  respectable  line  formed  and  the 
enemy's  advance  was  now  decidedly  checked. 
Captain  Elder,  who  had  brought  off  all  his  guns  in 
safety,  planted  them  on  an  eminence,  and  soon 
they  were  thundering  defiance  to  the  baffled 
enemy.  Shell  after  shell  screamed  over  our  heads 
and  exploded.  Soon  after  a  part  of  the  First 
Corps  came  up,  formed  a  line  of  battle,  and  re 
lieved  our  thinned  and  wearied  ranks.  We  retired 
to  the  friendly  shelter  of  a  neighbouring  forest,  and 
that  deep  sleep  which  follows  great  excitement 
and  exertion  quietly  stretched  us  out  as  motion 
less  and  unconscious  seemingly  as  the  lifeless 
forms  of  our  brave  comrades  that  lay  cold  and 
stark  along  the  line  of  our  bloody  retreat." 

"  Many  changes  and  much  marching  and  coun 
ter-marching  have  taken  place  since  the  soldiers  of 
the  Harris  Light  Cavalry  gathered  nightly  under 


28  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

the  old  apple  tree,  or  in  front  of  the  chaplain's 
tent,  during  the  warm  moonlight  evenings  of  Sep 
tember  and  October.  The  rich  autumn  foliage 
that  then  made  even  poor  old  desolated  Virginia 
look  beautiful  has  dropped  away,  and  stern  win 
ter,  rendered  all  the  more  grim  and  forbidding  by 
the  ravages  of  war,  now  reigns  supreme.  Many 
of  our  number,  also,  like  the  leaves,  have  dropped 
away.  Some,  having  obtained  and  squandered 
their  bounty,  have  treacherously  deserted  and 
sneaked  away  like  thievish  hounds.  The  bullet, 
accident,  and  sickness  have  each  conspired  to 
lessen  our  number,  and  many  a  noble-hearted  fel 
low  who  was  always  first  and  foremost  in  all  a 
soldier's  duty  is  now  languishing  in  some  hospital, 
or  sleeping  beneath  the  sod  that  last  sleep  from 
which  no  bugle  call  shall  waken  him. 

"  It  seems  as  if  God  was  teaching  us  to  look  to 
himself,  and  not  to  men,  for  among  those  that 
sickness  has  for  the  present  removed  from  our 
number  were  three  who  were  the  very  stay  and 
central  pillars  of  our  regimental  church.  Espe 
cially  do  I  feel  the  loss  of  Brother  Farber,  who 
was  as  noble  a  specimen  of  a  Christian  soldier  as 
it  ha?  ever  been  my  fortune  to  meet.  Uniting 
culture  of  heart  and  mind  with  a  happy  disposi 
tion,  a  shrewd  and  quick  perception  of  character, 
and  a  manner  that  made  him  popular  with  all,  he 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  2Q 

was  just  such  an  ally  as  the  chaplain  needed  in 
the  ranks.  Though  he  made  his  religion  respected 
by  all,  he  also  made  it  attractive,  and  his  society 
was  not  shunned,  even  by  the  wildest  spirits  of  the 
regiment.  His  cheerful  smile  and  words  were 
better  than  medicine  in  the  hospital,  and  I  almost 
always  found  him  there  when  off  duty.  Nearly 
two  months  ago  he  left  us  for  a  hospital  in  Wash 
ington,  sick  with  the  typhoid  fever,  contracted 
doubtless  by  over-fatigue  in  his  care  of  the  sick 
and  bodies  of  the  deceased,  and  by  breathing  air 
tainted  with  disease.  I  have  since  received  a 
letter  from  him  stating  that  he  was  very  sick,  and 
that  the  surgeon  said  it  would  be  months  before 
he  could  join  the  regiment  again,  if  ever.  For 
aught  I  know  his  warfare  may  now  be  over  and  he 
at  rest,  for  I  have  received  no  answer  to  my  reply 
to  his  letter.  Brothers  Vernon  and  Stillwell  are 
also  away  sick.  Only  pastors,  and  they  not  fully, 
can  realize  the  loss  that  such  men  are  to  a  chap 
lain.  He  has  so  few  capable,  warm-hearted  co 
adjutors  in  a  regiment  as  a  general  thing.  There 
is  such  a  torrent  of  evil  influences  rushing  in  on 
every  side,  that  he  sorely  feels  the  need  of  men 
possessing  firm  and  established  Christian  charac 
ters,  who  would  quietly  and  consistently  stand  up 
for,  and  live  religion  on  all  occasions.  Here  he 
has  none  of  the  conventionalities  and  restraints  of 


30  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

society  to  aid  him,  and  even  the  heavenly  influ 
ence  of  Christian  parents,  of  pure  sisters,  and  lov 
ing  wives  is  weakened  by  distance,  absence,  and 
sin.  But  in  grappling  with  the  many  and  power 
ful  demoralizing  influences  and  vices  of  camp  life, 
one  soon  learns  that  but  little  can  be  accomplished 
except  by  the  direct  aid  and  interposition  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  for  nothing  short  of  the  grace  of  God 
can  enable  the  soldier  to  resist  the  evil  that  assails 
him  on  every  side. 

"While  I  was  on  a  brief  business  visit  to  the 
North,  the  regiment  had  joined  the  advance,  and 
on  my  return  I  found  it  out  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Warrenton.  After  waiting  a  few  days  in  what 
remained  of  our  old  camp,  I  found  an  opportunity 
of  going  out  to  the  front  with  Captain  Cook,  of 
our  regiment,  and  a  small  squad  of  men.  The  ride 
out  to  Rappahannock  Station,  where  our  regi 
ment  was  last  heard  from,  was  full  of  novelty 
and  interest  to  one  who  had  never  been  on  a 
long  march  before.  Captain  Cook  is  a  gentle 
man  as  well  as  a  good  soldier,  and  his  familiar 
ity  with  the  historic  region  through  which  we 
passed  made  him  an  exceedingly  agreeable  com 
panion.  The  evening  of  the  second  day  of  our 
journey,  which  was  Sunday,  found  us  considerably 
beyond  Manassas.  A  dismantled  house  stood  on 
the  brow  of  a  hill  in  a  grove  some  distance  from 


LIFE   AS   CHAPLAIN  3! 

the  road.  We  rode  up  to  it  and  concluded  to 
spend  the  night  there.  Though  it  was  half  ruin 
ous,  without  windows  and  doors,  and  the  floor 
covered  with  rubbish  of  every  description,  but  a 
few  moments  sufficed  to  make  it  sufficiently  com 
fortable  for  a  soldier's  purpose.  A  fire  blazing 
on  the  hearth,  the  rubbish  cleared  away,  a  blanket 
hung  over  the  windows  and  doors,  made  our  night 
quarters  complete.  Then  gathering  around  the 
fire,  each  broiled  his  slip  of  bacon  on  the  end  of  a 
stick,  and  enjoyed  this  rude  repast  far  better  than 
many  a  well  appointed  banquet  in  the  North,  for 
'  hunger  was  our  sauce.'  After  supper  we  had,  as 
it  were,  family  prayers.  The  old  dilapidated  man 
sion,  the  costume,  arms,  and  varied  expressions  of 
the  soldiers  as  they  lounged  around  listening  to 
the  Word  of  God,  all  brought  into  view  by  the 
flickering  blaze  that  roared  within  the  chimney, 
made  a  scene  that  any  artist  might  wish  to  copy. 

"  After  marching  all  the  next  day  we  joined  our 
wagon  train  at  dusk,  near  Rappahannock  Station, 
and  found  that  we  were  just  in  time,  for  the  whole 
army  was  on  the  move  to  Fredericksburg.  Join 
ing  the  train,  I  marched  half  the  night  with  them 
in  the  darkness  and  rain.  As  there  was  no  shelter 
near,  the  next  day  was  spent  in  the  rain  under  a 
tree ;  and  an  attack  on  the  wagon  train  being  ex 
pected  on  the  following  night,  my  slumbers  were 


32  LIFE   AS   CHAPLAIN 

neither  very  sound  nor  long  continued.  But  such 
is  the  wonderful  vitality  that  life  in  the  open  air 
gives,  that  one  soon  recovers  from  loss  of  sleep 
and  fatigue.  Our  regiment  moved  down  to 
Brook's  Station,  where  it  remained  doing  picket 
duty  till  it  joined  the  advance  on  Fredericksburg. 

"  Our  brigade,  with  our  beloved  and  lamented 
General  Bayard  in  command,  was  drawn  up  on  a 
hillside  preparatory  to  marching,  and  I  assure 
you  that  the  long  lines  and  dense  masses  of  cav 
alry  made  a  splendid  and  imposing  appearance. 
It  was  nearly  night  before  we  filed  off  towards 
Falmouth.  The  night  was  dark  and  misty  and 
the  roads  broken  and  wild.  Sometimes  we  would 
plunge  down  into  a  deep  gully,  at  others  scramble 
up  the  slippery  and  frozen  sides  of  a  steep  hill. 
Every  now  and  then  horse  and  rider  would  be 
down,  to  the  great  merriment  of  all  witnesses. 
But  the  joke  became  too  serious  when  a  horse  fell 
and  broke  one  poor  fellow's  leg. 

"  Seen  through  the  mist  and  darkness,  the  long 
extended  column,  winding  among  the  broken  hills, 
now  coming  out  in  bold  relief  on  the  brow  of  one 
of  them,  and  then  descending  again  into  the  valley 
or  the  gloom  of  some  forest,  had  a  shadowy  and 
phantom-like  appearance,  and  seemed  more  like  a 
procession  in  a  dream  than  a  goodly  number  of 
well  armed  troopers  on  a  march.  Especially  was 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  33 

this  spectral  effect  heightened  when  a  distant  part 
of  the  column  would  pass  within  the  lurid  glare  of 
some  brilliant  camp-fire.  After  floundering  through 
streams  and  quagmires,  and  filing  through  gorges 
that  reminded  one  of  the  old  Indian  ambuscades, 
we  turned  off  into  a  forest  to  encamp  for  the  night. 
Selecting  a  tree  from  under  which  the  snow  had 
partially  melted  away,  a  few  of  us  built  a  fire,  then 
spread  our  blankets  and  slept  on  the  ground  in 
the  clear,  frosty  starlight  as  well  as  on  the  softest 
couch  our  limbs  had  ever  pressed.  Long  before 
daylight,  the  bugle  sounded  '  boots  and  saddles,' 
and  the  woods  soon  resounded  with  the  customary 
martial  clamor  of  an  encampment. 

"Suddenly  every  sound  was  hushed,  for  the  dis 
tant  boom  of  the  two  guns  that  opened  the  battle 
of  Fredericksburg  broke  upon  our  ears.  The 
silence  was  succeeded  by  wild  shouts  of  enthusi 
asm,  and  soon  we  were  on  our  way  to  the  scene  of 
action.  The  sharp  rattle  of  musketry  now  began 
to  mingle  with  the  report  of  cannon.  As  we  ap 
proached  the  river  the  roar  of  the  artillery  was 
truly  grand  and  awful.  I  can  only  compare  it  to 
a  very  violent  thunder-storm,  wherein  you  hear,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  the  rumble  and  mutter  of 
some  peal  dying  away  in  the  distance,  the  heavy, 
jarring  roll  more  near,  and  the  loud  stunning  ex 
plosion  from  the  flash  overhead.  Our  cavalry  was 

3 


34  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

crowded  on  a  plain  in  the  rear  of  our  batteries. 
We  did  not  know  that  the  rebels  were  not  replying 
to  our  guns,  and  expected  every  minute  they  would 
get  our  range.  As  we  remained  undisturbed,  I 
concluded  that  our  distance  from  the  river  was 
much  greater  than  I  had  first  supposed;  but 
when  the  order  came  to  march,  and  we  filed  off, 
by  twos,  down  towards  the  river,  past  our  batteries, 
I  expected  every  moment  to  see  the  head  of  our 
column  broken  and  shattered  by  shot  and  shell. 
I  have  heard  much  about  "  lazy  soldiers  and  large 
pay,"  but  I  thought  at  that  time  that  the  soldier 
who  marches  steadily  and  determinedly  forward 
on  such  occasions  earns  in  five  minutes  all  the 
pay  he  ever  gets.  But  the  heavy  cannonading  was 
only  from  our  own  guns,  for  the  rebels  were  re 
serving  their  fire.  We  soon  found  that  our  orders 
were  not  to  cross,  but  to  go  down  the  river  and  do 
picket  duty  on  the  extreme  left  flank.  As  we 
marched  along,  a  shell  from  one  of  our  batteries 
on  a  hill  above  me  passed  directly  over  my  head. 
As  it  hissed  by,  it  gave  me  an  idea  of  the  infinitely 
short  space  of  time  in  which  many  of  our  poor 
boys  are  dashed  into  eternity. 

"  The  early  dawn  of  Saturday  morning  saw  us  re 
turning  to  the  battlefield.  About  nine  o'clock  we 
mounted  the  hill,  and  formed  upon  the  plain  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  As  we  were  taking 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  35 

our  position,  I  heard  a  whizzing  sound,  and  saw 
the  earth  torn  up  by  a  solid  shot  quite  near  me. 
They  soon  screamed  over  our  heads  and  fell  all 
around  us;  but,  as  a  general  thing,  the  enemy 
fired  too  high.  A  few  hundred  yards  to  our  front, 
the  shells  were  bursting  constantly.  We  remained 
on  the  plain  all  that  day  and  night,  the  fire  in  front 
of  us  sometimes  slackening,  and  sometimes  ceasing 
altogether.  We  often  cast  anxious  glances  at  some 
rebel  batteries  quite  near  us  on  the  right,  and  often 
wondered  why  they  did  not  open  upon  us,  for  if 
they  did,  they  could  have  swept  us  from  the  plain 
in  a  few  moments.  Either  our  batteries  occupied 
them,  or  they  reserved-  their  fire  for  some  purpose. 
A  little  after  noon,  we  heard  that  General  Bayard, 
our  division  commander,  was  mortally  wounded. 
Soon  after  word  came  that  cavalry  was  needed. 
Two  regiments  of  the  enemy  were  running,  it  was 
said,  and  the  Harris  Light  Cavalry  was  wanted  to 
follow  them  up.  Off  dashed  our  men  in  close 
column,  at  full  gallop,  to  the  place  designated,  the 
surgeon  and  myself  going  to  the  hospital  to  pre 
pare  for  our  wounded.  As  we  started,  the  road 
over  which  the  regiment  had  just  passed,  and 
directly  in  front  of  us,  was  torn  up  by  a  solid  shot. 
Whose  earnest  prayers  were  heard  that  day,  and 
the  Harris  Light  Cavalry  saved  from  almost  a 
massacre?  The  order  for  cavalry  had  to  pass 


36  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

through  three  different  hands  before  it  reached  us, 
and  by  the  time  our  men  arrived  at  the  spot  it  was 
discovered  that  the  enemy's  retreat  was  only  a 
feint,  and  that  batteries  were  so  arranged  as  to 
place  the  party  who  should  follow  them  between 
two  fires.  Our  regiment  approached  near  enough 
to  the  trap,  and  were  exposed  to  a  sufficiently  hot 
fire,  for  a  few  minutes,  to  be  satisfied  that  if  they 
had  charged,  as  was  intended,  but  few  would  have 
returned. 

"  At  the  hospital  we  found  poor  Bayard.  Of  all 
the  ghastly  wounds  I  saw  that  day  his  was  the 
most  awful.  It  needed  but  a  glance  to  see,  as  he 
calmly  stated  to  those  who  visited  him,  "  that  his 
days  on  earth  were  numbered."  If  his  wound  had 
been  a  mere  scratch,  he  could  not  have  been  more 
cool,  quiet,  and  collected.  He  talked  calmly  of  his 
death  as  of  a  settled  thing,  and  only  inquired  par 
ticularly  how  much  time  he  had  left  on  earth.  He 
was  told,  'perhaps  forty-eight  hours.'  He  did 
not  live  twenty-four.  My  heart  sank  within  me  as 
he  gave  me  his  hand  in  farewell,  and  I  almost 
murmured,  '  Why  are  the  best  taken  ? '  The 
large  house  to  which  the  wounded  were  brought 
was  now  filled  with  mutilated  and  dying  men. 
Cries  and  groans  resounded  from  every  apartment. 
Ghastly  and  bloody  wounds  met  the  eye  in  every 
direction.  Some  had  their  eyes  shot  out;  the 


LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN  37 

tongues  of  some  were  swollen  out  of  their  mouths ; 
some  had  their  bodies  shot  through ;  others  were 
torn  and  mangled  by  shell  and  solid  shot,  and  all 
were  crowded  wherever  there  was  any  space.  The 
surgeons  were  hacking  off  limbs  and  arms  by  the 
dozen.  The  odor  of  blood  was  oppressive.  One 
man  called  me  to  him,  thinking  I  was  a  surgeon, 
and  said  that  one  of  his  wounds  had  been  dressed, 
but  he  found  that  he  had  another,  which  was  bleed 
ing  rapidly.  Another  poor  fellow  held  up  his  arm 
to  me,  with  a  great  bulging  hole  in  it,  and  asked 
with  an  expression  of  pain  and  anxiety  that  I  could 
scarcely  endure,  whether  I  thought  he  would  have 
to  lose  it?  Such  is  the  horrid  reality  of  war  behind 
the  painted  scenes  of  honor,  glory,  and  romance. 
However  cold  an  ear  the  poor  fellows  may  have 
turned  to  the  story  of  the  Cross  when  in  health,  as 
a  general  thing  they  were  ready  enough  now  to 
listen  to  the  offers  of  mercy.  One  wounded  boy 
had  his  leg  taken  off  just  as  he  was  entering  the 
hospital,  which  building  was  under  fire  all  day,  and 
was  repeatedly  struck.  The  scene  from  the  win 
dows  of  the  hospital  was  truly  splendid  as  night 
came  on.  Innumerable  camp-fires  gleamed  from 
the  hillsides,  and  occasionally  the  darkness  was 
lighted  up  by  the  flash  of  cannon.  But  weariness, 
and  the  knowledge  that  our  own  regiment  might 
be  engaged  the  next  day,  caused  me  to  seek  a 


38  LIFE  AS   CHAPLAIN 

place  of  rest.  The  medical  department  of  our 
brigade  had  been  rendered  small  by  the  absence 
of  some  of  its  members,  and  it  might  be  that  our 
duties  on  the  morrow  would  be  very  arduous. 
The  ground  outside  the  hospital  was  so  tramped 
up,  muddy,  and  filled  with  horses,  that  it  was  im 
possible  to  sleep  there.  But  there  was  a  stone 
alley-way  under  the  hospital,  filled  with  tobacco  in 
the  leaf,  part  of  it  lying  on  the  ground,  and  part 
drying  overhead.  One  end  of  this  place  was 
already  filled  with  wounded  men,  but  the  surgeon 
in  charge  said  that  the  other  would  not  be  occu 
pied  before  morning,  and  that  I  had  better  stay 
there.  As  a  light  came  I  saw  something  white 
lying  near  the  wall.  I  first  thought  it  was  a  dog, 
and  going  up,  I  stirred  the  object  with  my  foot. 
On  looking  closer,  I  found  that  it  was  a  ghastly 
pile  of  arms  and  legs  from  the  amputating-room. 
But  I  had  seen  so  much  of  blood  and  horror  dur 
ing  the  day  that  I  had  grown  callous.  I  quietly 
spread  my  blanket  within  ten  feet  of  the  bloody 
heap,  and  listened  sadly  to  the  shrieks  and  groans 
from  the  hospital  above  till  I  fell  asleep.  The  re 
opening  of  the  battle  on  Sunday  morning  awoke 
me,  and  as  I  was  rolling  up  my  blankets,  a  shell 
bursting  near  warned  me  to  hasten.  I  joined  the 
regiment,  and  with  it  recrossed  the  river.  We 
have  since  been  doing  picket  duty  on  the  Rappa- 
hannock. 


E.    P.    ROE   AS   CHAPLAIN,    AGE    26. 


LIFE  AS  CHAPLAIN  39 

"  Many  a  careless,  light-hearted  soldier  wore  an 
anxious,  troubled  look  that  day,  as  we  stood  facing 
the  rebel  batteries,  and  many  a  loud-mouthed, 
coarse,  swearing  fellow  was  quiet  and  pale.  But  I 
saw  no  flinching  or  skulking.  You  at  the  North, 
who  cosily  read  about  battles  in  an  arm-chair,  know 
little  of  a  man's  sensations  who  stands  in  front  of 
the  enemy's  guns.  He  hears  shot  and  shell  scream 
and  explode  over  and  around  him.  Before  him 
arises  the  sulphurous  smoke  of  the  conflict.  From 
out  of  that  obscurity  he  knows  that  at  any  moment 
some  swift  messenger  of  death  may  be  speeding 
on  its  way  to  his  heart.  He  thinks  of  unfinished 
plans,  of  bright  prospects  and  hopes  for  the  future. 
His  home,  its  beloved  inmates,  and  the  forms  and 
features  of  those  friends  that  hold  the  chief  places 
within  his  soul  rise  up  before  him,  and  he  knows 
that  at  any  moment  he  may  be  snatched  from  all 
these,  and  lie  a  mangled,  bleeding  corpse  upon  the 
ground.  And  then  come  graver  and  still  more 
solemn  thoughts  of  the  shadowy  world  beyond, 
and  '  conscience,  which  makes  cowards  of  us  all,' 
awakes.  In  the  mad  excitement  and  tumult  of  a 
charge,  everything  is  forgotten.  When  patiently 
standing  under  fire,  everything  is  remembered, 
and  this,  of  all  that  the  soldier  has  to  do  and  en 
dure,  is  the  most  difficult  and  dreaded." 

An  occasional  amusing  incident  would  occur, 


40  LIFE  AS  CHAPLAIN 

however,  to  relieve  the  gloom  of  these  tragic  times. 
I  remember  hearing  my  brother  tell  of  one  that 
took  place  while  crossing  a  narrow  pontoon  bridge. 
A  mule,  ridden  by  a  contraband,  and  having  a  num 
ber  of  kettles  strung  on  one  side  of  the  saddle  and 
on  the  other  some  chickens  that  had  been  captured 
from  henroosts  along  the  march,  suddenly  became 
stubborn  when  about  half-way  across  the  bridge, 
and  resisted  all  efforts  on  the  part  of  his  rider  to 
make  him  move  on.  He  was  blocking  the  way  for 
the  whole  troop.  An  officer,  seeing  the  situation, 
shouted  the  order:  "Charge  mule!"  Instantly 
half  a  dozen  men  rode  up  and  with  the  points  of 
their  sabres  convinced  the  animal  of  the  necessity 
for  a  speedy  advance.  He  started  off  at  a  dead 
run,  scattering  the  rattling  kettles  and  squawking 
hens  by  the  wayside,  the  poor  contraband  holding 
on  with  arms  clasped  around  the  mule's  neck, 
while  the  troopers  followed  in  wild  pursuit,  amid 
shouts  and  laughter. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  WINTER  CAMP 

THE  following  letters  were  written  from  the 
winter   quarters   of  the    regiment   on   the 
Rappahannock,  and  explain  themselves. 

"  In  this  letter  I  merely  propose  to  give  some 
glimpses  of  camp  life.  When  the  army  lay  quiet 
for  two  or  three  weeks  after  the  battle  of  Fred- 
ericksburg,  we  began  to  think  of  winter  quarters ; 
so  one  fine  morning  our  whole  division  started  out 
in  search  of  a  desirable  locality.  In  some  respects 
it  was  a  rather  novel  expedition.  We  were  seek 
ing  a  place  that  would  probably  be  our  home  for 
months ;  and  I  assure  you,  as  we  marched  along, 
that  unknown  spot  of  ground  became  to  us  an 
object  of  no  small  anxiety  and  interest.  Those 
officers  who  had  designs  on  Washington,  rather 
than  Richmond,  hoped  it  would  be  near  the  steam 
boat  landing  on  the  Potomac.  Many  wishes  were 
expressed  that  wood  would  be  plenty  and  con 
venient;  for  winter  quarters  without  wood  is  an 
impossibility.  Speculations  were  indulged  in  re 
gard  to  the  locality  and  soil,  whether  it  would  be 


42  A  WINTER  CAMP 

a  dry,  sheltered  little  valley,  or  a  bleak  cornfield 
capable  of  all  degrees  of  mud.  The  place  of  en 
campment  selected  for  our  regiment  was  appar 
ently  the  latter.  I  must  say  that  many  of  us  were 
not  very  enthusiastic  about  the  position,  and  we 
could  not  feel  indifferent,  for  our  comfort  and  per 
haps  health  depended  on  the  suitableness  of  the 
place. 

"  Imagine  yourself,  my  reader,  riding  into  a  large, 
bleak,  hilly  cornfield,  the  stalks  still  standing,  with 
your  whole  personal  property  in  this  region  of  the 
world  strapped  behind  you  on  the  saddle,  your 
horse  sinking  at  every  step  fetlock  deep  in  the 
soft,  spongy  soil,  and  being  coolly  told  to  make 
yourself  comfortable  here  for  the  winter.  Prob 
ably  you  would  feel  as  we  suppose  the  Israelites 
did  when  required  to  make  bricks  without  straw. 
But  necessity  and  experience  have  taught  the  sol 
dier  many  lessons,  and  he  knows  well  how  to 
make  the  best  of  everything.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  long  picket  lines  are  uncoiled  and  stretched 
from  post  to  post  inserted  for  the  purpose.  To 
these  the  horses  are  tied  and  then  unsaddled. 
The  little  shelter  tents  range  themselves,  as  if  by 
magic,  in  long  rows  between  them,  and  within  a 
half-hour  or  so  the  place  begins  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  a  well  laid  out  encampment. 

"  But  this  is  merely  temporary,  and  the  building 


A  WINTER  CAMP  43 

of  regular  winter  quarters  is  next  in  order.  The 
size  and  character  of  the  huts  being  left  to  the 
fancy  and  ingenuity  of  each  individual,  there  is, 
with  much  apparent  sameness,  a  great  deal  of 
diversity  and  originality  to  be  observed.  The 
most  simple  is  merely  a  '  dug-out,'  as  it  is  termed. 
A  hole  is  dug  six  or  seven  feet  square,  and  from 
two  to  four  feet  deep,  and  over  this  is  placed  the 
tent.  The  floor  and  sides  are  lined  with  boards  if 
they  are  to  be  had,  otherwise  round  poles  and  rails 
answer  the  purpose.  Opening  into  this  '  dug 
out  '  is  a  small  trench  two  or  three  feet  long,  wide 
at  its  mouth,  and  narrowing  towards  the  end 
farthest  from  the  tent.  Across  this  trench  are 
laid  any  old  pieces  of  iron  that  can  be  found,  and 
upon  them  is  placed  earth  so  as  to  exclude  the  air 
entirely  except  at  a  small  aperture  at  the  farther 
end,  around  which  is  built  a  sod  chimney;  and 
your  winter  quarters  are  complete.  Thus  you 
may  have  in  your  tent  all  the  warmth  and  cheer 
fulness  of  an  open  fire. 

"  Myself  and  servant  alone  built  one  of  these  in 
an  afternoon,  and  I  spent  in  it  some  of  the  coldest 
weather  we  have  had  this  winter  very  comfortably. 
The  '  dug-out '  principle  enters  into  the  construc 
tion  of  nearly  all  our  little  cabins ;  and,  like  the 
foxes,  we  have  holes,  and  literally  live  in  the 
'  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth,'  The  officers  gen- 


44  A  WINTER  CAMP 

erally  build  their  quarters  in  the  side  of  a  bank, 
and  have  them  logged  up  nicely,  and  they  are 
very  comfortable  except  in  a  long  storm.  Some 
times  our  frail  canvas  covering  sways  terribly  in 
the  wintry  blasts,  and  I  have  often  laid  down  to 
sleep  more  than  half  expecting  to  find  my  house 
gone  when  I  awoke.  Still  our  little  holes  in  the 
ground  are  a  hundredfold  better  than  no  shelter 
at  all,  and  far  preferable  to  those  in  which  the  sol 
dier  '  sleeps  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.' 
Some  of  the  men  who  have  the  faculty  of  making 
anything  and  everything  with  an  axe  put  up  quite 
large  substantial  log  shanties,  with  two  or  three 
tiers  of  berths,  as  in  a  steamboat.  Some  have 
quite  a  neat,  homelike  appearance,  and  are  fur 
nished  with  fanciful  little  tables  and  shelves  accord 
ing  to  the  tastes  and  wants  of  the  occupants. 
Others  are  dismal  and  dirty  in  the  extreme,  and 
are  mere  dens.  Nothing  shows  the  character  of 
the  men  more  thoroughly  than  the  little  huts  they 
inhabit.  A  few  are  too  indolent  to  build  them 
selves  anything,  and  are  still  living  in  their  shelter 
tents.  But  over  the  heads  of  us  all  is  merely  a 
canvas  roof,  which  will  often  leak,  and  it  is  a  very 
common  thing  to  see  puddles  of  water,  or  a  muddy 
floor,  in  our  winter  quarters. 

"  Still  those  who  are  well  live  in  the  main  a 
very  comfortable  life.      The    abundance  of  pure 


A  WINTER  CAMP  45 

air  and  exercise  makes  us  strong  and  vigorous. 
It  does  not  always  storm.  We  have  many  days 
that  are  warm  and  sunny,  and  then  give  me  camp 
life  in  preference  to  any  other.  The  soldiers  sit 
and  lounge  around  their  cabin  doors  in  motley 
groups,  reading  (if  they  have  anything  to  read), 
smoking,  and  gossiping,  for  a  camp  is  a  little 
miniature  city,  with  its  daily  budget  of  news  and 
sensations,  its  streets,  squares,  and  centers,  and 
also  many  of  its  nuisances.  For  the  roar  of  New 
York  we  have  a  drowsy,  diminutive  hum,  fre 
quently  broken  rudely  by  a  loud  laugh  or  com 
mand,  the  clangor  of  weapons,  and  sometimes,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  by  loucl  oaths.  Instead  of  musi 
cal  chimes  from  Trinity  and  her  sister  steeples,  the 
silvery  notes  of  the  bugles  proclaim  the  hours  and 
duties  of  the  day.  Our  lights  glimmer  and  flicker 
out  upon  the  night  like  long  rows  of  glowworms 
rather  than  Broadway  lamps ;  and  instead  of  the 
heavy  tramp  of  police  armed  with  star  and  club, 
the  night-long  rattle  of  sabres  shows  that  the 
guards  and  sentinels  are  on  their  posts  of  duty. 
Sometimes  there  will  be  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  dur 
ing  the  night,  and  then  the  tents  and  cabins  look 
like  huge  snow-banks,  and  the  poor  horses  shiver 
all  the  more  under  the  cold  white  blankets  so 
summarily  furnished,  the  only  ones  they  ever  get. 
These  suffer  more  than  the  men,  for  in  the  main 


46  A  WINTER  CAMP 

they  can  have  no  shelter,  and  often  have  to  do 
hard  work  on  short  rations.  Their  gaunt  appear 
ance  and  the  number  of  their  dead  tells  its  own 
story.  Our  colonel  remarked  one  day  that  he 
hoped  the  mud  would  get  so  soft  and  deep  that 
the  horses  would  sink  in  sufficiently  to  enable 
them  to  stand  upright. 

''  The  greatest  hardship  of  a  soldier's  life  in  win 
ter  is  picket  duty.  For  instance,  our  whole  brig 
ade,  recently  assigned  to  Colonel  Kilpatrick,  left 
their  comfortable  quarters  a  few  mornings  ago, 
and  went  out  on  picket  duty  for  ten  days.  A  cold, 
wet  snow  filled  the  air  and  clung  to  and  dampened 
everything.  It  settled  on  one's  hair  and  neck, 
melted,  and  ran  down  his  back,  producing  a  gen 
eral  feeling  of  discomfort.  As  the  men  formed 
preparatory  to  marching,  their  uniforms  of  blue 
rapidly  changed  to  white,  and  as  they  filed  off  in 
the  dim  morning  light  they  presented  a  shadowy, 
ghost-like  appearance.  When  you  realize  what  it 
is  to  march  eighteen  or  twenty  miles  in  such  a 
storm  over  horrible  roads,  and  then  form  a  cordon 
of  pickets  twenty  miles  long  in  a  wild,  desolate 
country,  you  have  some  idea  of  the  not  unusual 
experience  of  a  soldier. 

"  When  he  reaches  his  destination,  it  is  not  a  dis 
agreeable  journey  over,  and  comfortable  quarters 
in  which  to  dry  and  refresh  himself.  All  his  con- 


A   WINTER   CAMP  47 

ditions  of  comfort  are  carried  on  his  person,  or 
strapped  to  his  saddle,  and  he  is  thankful  even  for 
the  shelter  of  a  pine  wood.  Immediately  on 
arrival,  without  time  for  rest,  a  large  detachment 
must  form  the  picket  line,  and  stand  ever  on  the 
alert  from  two  to  four  hours  at  a  time,  be  it  day 
or  night.  It  should  not  be  forgotten,  during  these 
long  winter  evenings  when  the  stormy  wind  sweeps 
and  howls  around  your  comfortable  dwellings,  that 
among  the  wild  woods  and  hills  of  Virginia,  or  on 
the  plains  of  the  far  West,  the  patient  sentinel 
walks  his  desolate  beat,  or  sits  like  an  equestrian 
statue  on  his  horse,  thus  forming  with  his  own 
chilled  and  weary  frame  a  living  breastwork  and 
defence  for  your  homes.  Pray  for  him,  that  dur 
ing  these  long,  lonely  hours  of  hardship  and  danger 
our  merciful  God  may  excite  within  his  mind 
thoughts  of  that  better  life  and  happier  world 
where  the  weary  are  at  rest  —  where  even  the 
names  of  enemy  and  war  are  forgotten." 

"  The  regiment  referred  to  is  the  Ninth  New  York 
Cavalry.  Their  chaplain  is  not  with  them  at  pres 
ent.  My  offer  to  preach  for  them  on  the  Sabbath 
was  readily  accepted,  and  though  at  the  time  of 
service  it  was  cold  and  even  raining  slightly,  a 
large  congregation  turned  out  and  remained  pa 
tiently  throughout  the  service.  One  of  their  offi- 


48  A  WINTER  CAMP 

cers  remarked  afterwards  that  he  had  not  had  the 
pleasure  of  attending  anything  of  the  kind  before 
for  five  months. 

"  If  Christians  North,  who  have  piles  of  reading 
matter  lying  idly  about  their  houses,  could  see 
how  eagerly  those  men  pressed  forward  to  get  the 
few  tracts  I  offered,  they  would  suffer  it  to  remain 
thus  useless  no  longer.  Our  soldiers  seem  to  be 
hungry  and  almost  starving  for  the  want  of  mental 
and  moral  nourishment. 

"  I  often  feel  it  my  duty  to  be  somewhat  officious, 
and  to  offer  my  service  outside  of  my  regiment 
sometimes,  for  even  such  as  I  can  give  is  better 
than  nothing,  which  would  be  their  lot  if  some  did 
not  go  forward.  I  think  Christians  should  be 
aggressive  in  their  character,  and  seek  opportuni 
ties  to  extend  the  dominion  of  their  King.  There 
are  too  many  professors  who  are  like  a  certain 
chaplain,  concerning  whom  I  heard  an  officer  re 
mark  "  that  he  was  a  good,  inoffensive  man,  and 
never  disturbed  the  devil  nor  any  one  else  in  the 
camp."  A  prayer-meeting  was  appointed  on 
Monday  evening,  but  on  the  morning  of  that  day 
the  regiment  received  marching  orders  and  de 
parted  for  parts  unknown. 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  conversions  in  our 
regiment  is  that  of  a  quartermaster's  sergeant. 
The  man,  although  around  the  camp  attending  to 


A  WINTER  CAMP  49 

his  duties,  is  in  a  critical  state  of  health,  bleeding 
almost  daily  at  the  lungs.  When  but  a  mere  boy 
he  ran  away  from  home  because  punished  severely 
by  his  father  for  some  fault,  and  was  not  heard 
from  for  over  two  years,  during  which  time  he 
suffered  many  hardships  in  the  West.  Not  long 
after  his  discovery  his  father  died  and  left  a  mother 
and  a  sister  dependent  upon  him  for  support.  This 
responsibility  he  nobly  undertook,  and  worked 
hard,  early  and  late,  and  denied  himself  every 
thing  to  give  them  the  comforts  of  life.  Still,  he 
was  noted  for  his  fiery  and  ungovernable  spirit, 
which  often  got  him  into  trouble.  At  an  early 
age  he  went  to  sea  and  visited  nearly  all  parts 
of  the  world.  He  engaged  extensively  in  smug 
gling,  which  occupation  he  followed  both  in 
English  and  Spanish  waters.  He  returned  home 
from  this  roving,  reckless  life  but  a  short  time  be 
fore  the  war  broke  out,  and  was  among  the  first  to 
enlist.  During  the  past  summer  he  has  often  been 
in  circumstances  of  the  greatest  peril,  but  escaped 
unharmed.  Once,  in  the  confusion  of  battle,  he 
found  himself  directly  in  front  of  a  battery  loaded 
with  grape  and  canister.  For  some  reason  or 
other  his  horse  would  not  move  but  stood  stock 
still,  and  thus  he  had  to  wait  for  the  terrible  dis 
charge  which  soon  came.  He  said  it  seemed  as  if 
a  perfect  torrent  of  iron  hail  rushed  by  and  all 

4 


50  A  WINTER   CAMP 

around  him,  and  that  his  only  thought  was  that 
his  time  had  come  now,  and  that  the  devil  had  got 
him  then  surely.  By  a  miracle,  as  it  seemed  to 
him,  he  escaped  unharmed,  and  was  enabled  to 
get  out  of  range.  Many  and  many  a  time  he  had 
heard  the  bullets  hiss  by  his  ears,  and  the  shrill 
screams  of  shell  overhead,  but  they  raised  in  his 
mind  no  thoughts  of  God  or  repentance. 

"As  I  described  in  a  former  letter,  a  prayer-meet 
ing  was  started  in  the  camp,  and  held  in  the  quarters 
of  the  new  recruits.  He  heard  the  singing,  and 
passing  by  the  next  day  remarked  to  a  new  recruit 
that  '  they  seemed  happy  down  there  last  night  — 
guessed  they  must  have  had  some  whiskey.'  The 
person  addressed  happened  to  be  one  of  the  three 
Christian  men  who  first  started  the  prayer-meeting, 
and  he  explained  to  the  sergeant  the  somewhat 
different  source  and  occasion  of  their  happiness. 
The  sergeant  promised  to  attend  that  evening, 
which  he  did,  and  the  '  still  small  voice '  of  the 
Spirit  spoke  to  him  louder  than  the  thunders  of 
the  battlefield. 

"An  evening  or  two  after  that  I  noticed  him 
among  those  who  had  come  to  the  chaplain's  tent 
to  be  conversed  with  on  the  subject  of  religion.  I 
was  struck  by  the  contented,  happy  expression  of 
his  face.  He  told  me  that  he  had  gone  from  that 
prayer-meeting  to  his  tent,  and  commenced  read- 


A  WINTER  CAMP  51 

ing  a  Testament.  His  tent-mate  came  along,  and 
he  immediately  put  out  his  light  and  hid  his 
book.  When  he  was  alone  again  he  knelt  and 
prayed  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  after 
wards,  he  said,  'he  felt  so  happy  he  could  not 
sleep.' 

"  The  next  day,  while  about  his  work,  something 
vexed  him,  and  he  swore,  before  he  thought,  as 
usual.  He  said  'it  grieved  him  so  that  he  sat 
down  and  cried.'  Though,  as  it  were,  alone  in 
the  world  and  bereft  by  death  of  almost  every 
friend  he  loved,  and  now  seemingly  suffering  from 
an  incurable  disease,  he  is  a  happy  Christian 
man. 

"  In  our  meetings  he  has  to  be  constantly  on  his 
guard  against  over-excitement,  since  it  would  cause 
him  to  bleed  at  his  lungs,  but  the  expression  of  his 
face,  as  he  sits  quietly  in  one  corner  or  beside  the 
fire,  shows  how  intense  and  keen  is  his  enjoyment 
of  that  which  he  is  forbidden  to  take  part  in  actively. 
At  first  his  change  of  life  caused  a  good  deal  of 
remark  and  some  merriment  in  his  company.  He 
would  be  asked  '  when  he  was  going  up  to 
heaven.'  When  he  commenced  his  evening  de 
votions  there  was  at  first  a  good  deal  of  jesting. 
*  The  quartermaster  is  going  to  pray '  would  be 
called  out,  and  remarks  of  a  similar  nature.  They 
soon  saw  that  he  was  sincere  and  respected  him, 


52  A  WINTER  CAMP 

and    '  now,'   he   says,   '  he  can   hear   a   pin  drop 
while  he  is  at  prayer.' 

"  This  is  one  of  many  of  the  interesting  cases  of 
conversion  in  our  regiment.  The  chief  feature 
of  this  work,  however,  seems  to  be  the  renewal  of 
backsliders  in  their  allegiance  to  God.  But  time 
will  not  permit  me  to  write  more  at  present." 

"  How  often  when  a  boy  I  have  shuddered  at 
Indian  atrocities.  With  what  morbid  pleasure  I 
have  searched  through  the  early  records  of  col 
onial  history  for  details  of  horror,  fatal  surprise, 
and  midnight  massacre.  How  I  have  watched  in 
imagination,  with  suspended  breath,  the  wary, 
noiseless  approach  of  the  painted  savages,  till 
with  one  wide-ringing  war-whoop  they  rushed 
upon  their  unconscious  victims,  destined  now  to 
either  death  or  captivity.  The  dangers  and  terrors 
of  open  battle  seemed  nothing  to  this  constant 
dread  of  an  unseen  treacherous  foe.  I  little 
thought  that  it  would  one  day  be  my  fortune  to 
live  under  very  similar  circumstances,  for  life  in 
Virginia  now  is  not  so  very  different  from  that  of 
our  forefathers  a  century  or  more  ago.  Pioneers 
in  this  wilderness  of  despotism  and  treason,  we  are 
exposed  to  dangers  and  hardships  not  much  in 
ferior  to  theirs.  Ever  near  us  we  know  there  is  a 
great  army  watching  with  sleepless  vigilance,  and, 


A  WINTER  CAMP  53 

like  a  wild  beast  crouching  for  its  leap,  it  is  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  the  slightest  mistake  or  show 
of  weakness  on  our  part.  It  is  very  strange,  truly, 
when  one  comes  to  realize  it,  this  living  for  years 
within  a  few  miles  of  thousands  who  would  take 
your  life  in  a  moment  if  they  got  a  chance. 

"  The  forests  and  country  around  us  swarm  with 
guerillas.  In  place  of  some  savage  Indian  chief, 
the  terror  of  the  whole  border,  the  frontiers  of 
our  army  are  infested  by  the  ubiquitous  Mosby. 
The  capture  of  a  sutler's  train  near  Fairfax  and  a 
raid  upon  an  outpost  on  the  Rappahannock  occur 
ring  at  the  same  time  are  both  ascribed  to  Mosby 
in  person  by  the  soldiers.  If  a  picket  hears  a  dis 
tant  gallop  in  the  night  upon  one  flank  of  the 
army,  and  a  sudden  shot  startles  the  air  upon  the 
other  flank,  Mosby  is  invariably  the  author  of 
both  alarms.  No  wonder  the  poor  contrabands 
say  '  Mosby  mus'  be  like  de  debbel  and  go  all 
ober  to  oncst.'  He  was  once  captured  by  our 
regiment  while  bearing  dispatches  and  afterwards 
exchanged.  After  he  was  taken  he  tried  to  escape 
by  running  his  horse,  but  one  of  our  men  sent  a 
bullet  whistling  so  near  his  head  that  it  produced 
a  sober  second  thought,  and  he,  from  that  time, 
followed  quietly.  But  he  was  not  so  famous  then, 
and  had  not  so  many  trained  associates  like-minded 
with  himself.  Now  they  follow  a  marching  column 


54  A  WINTER  CAMP 

like  hungry  sharks  about  a  ship,  and  woe  be  to 
the  man  that  lags  behind  or  strays  from  the  main 
body. 

"  This  evil  has  one  great  advantage,  however,  and 
that  is  the  almost  entire  suppression  of  straggling. 
Mosby  and  his  companions  have  done  more  to 
abolish  this  disgraceful  custom  in  our  army  than 
all  the  orders  and  edicts  from  the  War  Depart 
ment  and  Major  Generals  down.  A  year  or  more 
ago,  I  saw  bodies  of  men  marching  in  a  way  that 
reminded  one  of  a  comet,  the  head  of  the  regi 
ment  being  the  nucleus,  the  density  decreasing 
rapidly  as  you  went  toward  the  rear,  and  finally  a 
straggling  raft  of  men  scattered  over  two  or  three 
miles  of  territory  constituting  the  tail.  Now  you 
will  find  a  column  moving  trimly  and  compactly, 
and  the  rear  files  often  looking  suspiciously  over 
their  shoulders  among  the  dark  pines  through 
which  they  are  passing,  for  sometimes,  especially 
at  nights,  shots  are  fired  into  the  rear. 

"  There  are  very  few  in  the  cavalry  that  have  not 
had  narrow  escapes,  for  our  position  on  the  front 
and  flanks  of  the  army  always  brings  us  next  to 
Mosby.  Just  before  we  crossed  the  Rappahannock 
the  last  time,  our  division  commissary,  Lieuten 
ant  Hedges,  was  returning  to  his  quarters  from 
a  short  ride  to  another  part  of  the  army,  when  he 
was  hailed  and  ordered  to  surrender.  '  Never,'  he 


A  WINTER  CAMP  55 

replied,  at  the  same  time  striking  spurs  to  his 
horse  and  leaning  down  upon  him.  He  succeeded 
in  escaping,  but  not  before  the  guerilla,  or  as  it  is 
affirmed,  Mosby  in  person,  put  a  ball  through 
his  body.  For  some  days  he  was  not  expected  to 
live,  but  is  now  recovering  slowly.  I  have  had 
two  or  three  narrow  escapes  myself  where  it 
almost  seemed  that  Providence  interfered  to  save 
my  life.  Once,  when  our  regiment  was  doing 
picket  duty  at  a  distant  outpost,  I  rode  down  to 
General  Kilpatrick's  headquarters  on  some  busi 
ness.  As  I  was  starting  to  return  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening,  the  general  came  out  and  asked  me 
to  stay  with  him  that  night.  I  replied  that  with 
his  permission  I  would  come  again  in  the  morning, 
and  that  I  would  rather  be  with  my  regiment  at 
night;  but  as  he  insisted  upon  it,  I  stayed.  The 
next  morning,  a  little  after  daylight,  one  of  our 
men  was  shot  dead  and  robbed  upon  the  road  that  I 
would  have  taken.  A  woman  living  near  said  that 
two  bushwhackers  had  spent  the  night  upon  the 
road  with  the  avowed  intention  of  murdering  and 
robbing  the  first  man  that  went  by.  As  no  one 
passed  that  way  during  the  early  part  of  the  night, 
they  went  into  a  house  and  slept  till  morning,  and 
again  were  on  the  road  in  time  to  meet  poor 
Francher  of  Company  B,  who  had  been  after  his 
pay.  They  took  this,  for  his  pocket  was  found 


56  A  WINTER  CAMP 

turned  inside  out.  It  was  my  sad  duty  to  bury 
him  the  next  day,  and  as  we  lowered  him  into  his 
lonely  grave,  I  could  not  help  asking  myself, 
Why  am  I  not  in  his  place? 

"  Once  again,  last  November,  while  on  the 
march,  Lieutenant  Whitaker  and  myself  were 
about  to  pass  over  a  road  between  our  wagon 
train  and  General  Kilpatrick's  headquarters,  when 
a  little  incident  detained  us  about  fifteen  minutes. 
As  we  were  going  by  the  house  of  quite  a  noted 
secessionist,  some  of  our  boys  began  to  make  free 
in  his  cabbage  garden  and  poultry  yard,  and  a 
scuffle  ensued  between  the  old  citizen,  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  the  soldiers.  An  infantry  colonel 
who  was  at  the  house  came  violently  out,  and  in 
stead  of  quietly  showing  his  rank  and  firmly  or 
dering  the  men  away,  commenced  cutting  them 
with  his  sword,  and  made  some  quite  serious 
wounds.  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  we  pre 
vented  our  men  from  killing  him  on  the  spot. 
But  as  the  colonel  outranked  us,  we  could  do 
nothing  with  him,  and  so  passed  on,  but  before 
we  got  fairly  started  upon  the  road  again  we  met 
a  man  running,  breathless,  with  his  hat  off,  who 
said  that  he  had  just  escaped  from  the  guerillas. 
Lieutenant  Newton  of  the  First  Vermont  Cavalry 
was  passing  over  the  road  with  several  men,  when 
fifteen  rebels  sprang  out  upon  him,  killed  one, 


A  WINTER  CAMP  57 

took  two  prisoners,  and  the  rest  saved  themselves 
only  by  rapid  flight.  If  we  had  not  been  detained, 
we  would  have  arrived  at  the  same  spot  a  few 
minutes  earlier  and  received  their  concentrated 
fire. 

"  At  times  they  have  captured  our  mail,  and 
afterwards  they  have  taunted  us  by  shouting  out 
the  contents  of  our  letters  to  our  pickets  across  the 
Rappahannock.  One  very  dark  night  they  slipped 
into  the  quarters  of  one  of  our  officers  while  he 
was  on  picket,  shot  his  colored  servant,  and  carried 
him  off  to  Richmond.  Thus  vigilance  is  a  cardinal 
virtue  in  this,  as  well  as  in  the  Christian  warfare. 
But  we  never  suffered  as  much  on  the  south  as  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Rappahannock.  The  coun 
try  between  the  two  rivers  is  now  thoroughly 
occupied  by  our  troops,  and  our  picket  lines  so 
close  and  well  posted  as  to  render  it  almost  impos 
sible  for  the  rebels  to  indulge  themselves  this 
winter  in  many  murdering  and  horse-stealing 
expeditions." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND 

IN  November,  1863,  Edward  received  a  month's 
leave  of  absence  from  his  regiment,  and  dur 
ing  this  time  was  married  to  Miss  Anna  Sands. 
The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  venerable 
Dr.  Adams  in  Madison  Square  church,  and  was 
followed  by  a  large  reception  at  the  bride's  home 
in  Seventeenth  Street,  New  York.  Leaving  his 
bride  there  when  the  furlough  was  over,  my  brother 
returned  to  his  regiment 

In  this  letter,  written  just  after  reaching  camp, 
he  dwells  upon  some  of  the  contrasts  of  army 
life. 

"  After  a  long  absence  I  experienced  a  decided 
thrill  of  pleasure  on  finding  myself  once  more 
among  the  white  tents  and  familiar  scenes  of  the 
camp,  for  there  is  something  very  fascinating  about 
army  life,  notwithstanding  its  hardship  and  ex 
posure.  Very  pleasant,  too,  was  the  hearty  wel 
come  I  received,  and  numberless  great  brown 
hands,  reeking  with  moisture  and  pork  grease  from 
the  meal  they  were  superintending,  gave  me  a  grip 


MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD  RICHMOND     59 

that  made  my  joints  snap  again.  Still  I  much 
preferred  it  to  your  fashionable  Northern  two- 
fingered  touch.  It  had  a  language  whose  meaning 
I  liked.  It  showed  I  had  the  first  requisite  for 
doing  good  amongst  them  —  their  confidence  and 
affection.  I  found  only  a  part,  though  a  large 
part,  of  my  regiment  at 'this  place,  which  is  a  dis 
mounted  cavalry  camp,  containing  the  fragments 
of  twenty  or  thirty  regiments.  Men  whose  horses 
have  given  out  or  been  killed  at  the  front  come 
here  and  remain  till  they  are  again  mounted  and 
equipped,  when  they  rejoin  their  commands.  Our 
stay  here  will  probably  be  brief,  for  we  are  ordered 
to  the  front  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  One  Saturday  morning  the  monotony  of  camp 
life  was  decidedly  broken.  The  day  had  been 
warm,  and  for  a  time  the  hum  of  camp  activity 
had  subsided  almost  into  silence.  The  orderlies 
went  to  and  fro  as  usual,  but  their  horses  had  a 
listless,  indolent  canter,  characteristic  of  all  exer 
tion  at  such  a  time.  But  as  the  day  declined  there 
were  marks  of  unusual  bustle  at  headquarters. 
A  ball  was  to  be  given  that  evening  by  the  com 
manding  officer.  All  officers  present  of  our  regi 
ment  were  invited.  As  far  as  I  could  learn,  music, 
dancing,  and  drinking  were  to  be  the  staple  amuse 
ments  of  the  evening.  Not  caring  to  participate 
in  the  two  latter,  and  as  I  could  enjoy  the  first  in 


6O    MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD  RICHMOND 

my  tent,  I  expected  to  remain  very  quietly  at  my 
quarters.  At  dusk  the  revelry  commenced.  At 
nine  o'clock  a  carriage  drove  up  to  our  quarters. 
It  contained  Captain  Downing  of  our  regiment, 
who  had  just  come  in  from  the  front,  bringing  with 
him  the  dead  body  of  one  of  our  officers  who  had 
been  drowned  while  bathing.  This  was  sad  news 
indeed,  for  Lieutenant  Stewart  was  a  good  soldier 
and  very  popular.  The  captain  wished  to  see  the 
officer  in  command  of  our  detachment.  I  went 
up  to  the  headquarters  to  assist  in  finding  him. 
All  was  gayety  and  frolic  there.  It  was  truly  a 
beautiful  scene.  The  trees  were  hung  with  Chinese 
lanterns  of  many  colors.  The  guards  paced  back 
ward  and  forward  on  the  spacious  lawn,  their  arms 
glittering  in  the  moonlight,  which  glimmered 
through  the  grand  old  trees.  In  the  distance  the 
Potomac  lay  like  a  silver  lake,  with  here  and  there 
a  white  sail  upon  its  bosom.  Over  the  green  turf 
gayly  dressed  ladies  and  officers  in  rich  uniform 
were  tripping  some  light  measure,  while  the  clink 
ing  of  glasses  showed  that  the  wine  was  passing 
freely.  No  one  could  help  enjoying  the  music 
from  the  full  military  band. 

"  Having  noted  the  picturesque  beauty  of  the 
scene,  and  moralized  to  myself  awhile  unnoticed 
among  the  throng,  I  thought  I  would  step  over  to 
the  hospital  and  see  how  the  sick  boys  were  enjoy- 


MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND     6l 

ing  the  revel.  It  was  not  over  fifty  yards  from  the 
music-stand.  Though  it  might  be  pleasure  to 
others,  it  was  death  to  them.  One  poor  fellow,  far 
gone  with  the  typhoid  fever,  and  excited  by  the 
music  and  noise,  was  talking  to  himself  in  wild 
delirium.  He  has  since  died.  All  were  restless 
and  sleepless.  I  said  a  few  quieting  words,  and 
was  about  leaving  when  a  man  asked  me  if  I  would 
not  offer  a  prayer.  "  I  am  not  a  Christian  man," 
he  remarked,  "  but  I  would  like  to  hear  a  prayer 
to-night."  Of  course  I  complied,  and  soon  the 
words  of  supplication  were  mingling  with  the  gay 
notes  of  the  quickstep.  I  have  seen  the  man  since 
several  times,  and  have  good  reason  to  believe  that 
he  has  become  a  sincere,  earnest  Christian.  The 
contrast  in  his  two  modes  of  life  will  be  most 
marked.  He  told  me  that  when  at  home  he  would 
often  take  his  wife  to  church,  and  then  ride  on 
further  and  trade  horses  during  the  service,  and 
call  for  his  wife  on  his  return.  As  may  be  imag 
ined,  army  life  had  not  improved  his  morals.  Still 
the  influence  of  his  -Christian  wife  followed  him, 
and  during  his  days  of  sickness  came  back 
in  tenfold  power,  and  the  kindly  Spirit  of  our 
merciful  Father,  ever-striving,  led  him  to  the 
Saviour. 

"  After  leaving  the  hospital  I  met  the  sergeant  of 
the  guard,  and  found  him  arming  a  body  of  men. 


62     MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID   TOWARD   RICHMOND 

"  We  are  going  to  have  trouble  to-night,"  he  said 
to  me.  The  camp  below  was  in  a  ferment.  There 
were  many  there  who  loved  whisky  as  well  as  the 
more  privileged  at  headquarters.  At  first  the 
rioters  (who  were  mainly  from  a  regiment  of  regu 
lars)  threatened  to  appropriate  the  officers'  stores 
and  break  up  the  ball.  But  hardly  daring  to  do  that, 
they  turned  their  attention  to  a  sutler's  tent  and 
eating-house.  They  soon  demolished  his  estab 
lishment  and  set  fire  to  his  premises.  They  here 
obtained  the  much  desired  whisky,  and  excited  by 
liquor,  they  boldly  began  preparations  to  attack 
another  sutler  who  was  unpopular.  The  riot  was 
now  getting  formidable.  From  my  tent  I  could 
overlook  the  whole  camp  and  scenes  at  head 
quarters.  Meantime  our  regiment  was  arming 
and  procuring  ammunition.  Fifty  of  our  men  were 
already  acting  as  guards.  They  formed  and  re 
ceived  their  cartridges  in  front  of  our  tents,  thus 
drawing  attention  to  the  headquarters  of  our  de 
tachment,  which  I  thought  at  one  time  would  pro 
voke  an  attack  upon  us.  I  dreaded  this,  for  one 
of  our  officers  had  left  his  wife  in  my  charge  at  the 
commencement  of  the  disturbance.  Our  men  then 
marched  to  headquarters,  fearing  the  first  attack 
would  be  there.  For  a  few  moments  all  was  still 
throughout  the  camp.  Then  there  were  signals  in 
all  directions.  In  a  few  moments  more  the  mules 


MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID  TOWARD    RICHMOND     63 

were  stampeded  from  the  corrall.  They  then  pro 
ceeded  to  attack  the  sutler's  tent  just  below  us. 
Here  the  guards  fired  upon  them,  which  caused 
them  to  retreat  to  the  burning  sutler's  tent  in  the 
middle  of  the  camp.  Then  I  could  see  our  men 
coming  down  from  the  headquarters  on  a  full  run. 
Wheeling  at  a  certain  point,  they  charged  without 
a  moment's  hesitation.  For  a  short  time  shots 
were  fired  in  rapid  succession,  when  the  rioters 
broke  and  ran.  The  ball  was  arrested.  The  order 
was  given,  '  Every  officer  to  his  post.'  The  ladies, 
pale  and  frightened,  were  huddled  together,  asking 
anxious  questions.  Many  of  the  officers  might 
be  seen  in  their  ball-dress  walking  and  riding 
through  the  camp  with  sword  and  pistol  driving 
the  men  into  their  tents.  Such  volleys  of  horrible 
oaths  as  were  heard  in  every  direction  I  hope  may 
never  shock  my  ears  again.  Officers  cursed  the 
men,  and  the  men  cursed  the  officers.  For  a  time 
things  looked  rather  serious.  Meanwhile  our  boys 
stood  grim  and  expectant,  ready  to  quell  any  show 
of  resistance.  In  a  few  minutes  the  whole  camp 
was  under  arms,  but  the  ringleaders  having  been 
caught,  quiet  was  eventually  restored.  My  heart 
ached  for  the  young  wife  who  saw  the  exposure  of 
her  husband  and  felt  her  own  danger,  and  who  was 
compelled  to  listen  to  the  awful  profanity  of  the 
hour.  I  will  say,  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned, 


64    MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND 

that  there  was  nothing  of  a  political  nature  in  the 
outbreak.  Whatever  may  be  the  soldiers'  vices, 
they  have  not  yet  sunk  so  far  as  to  sympathize 
with  Northern  '  copperheads.'  The  cause,  as  far  as 
I  could  learn,  was  the  unpopularity  of  the  sutlers, 
jealousy  of  our  regiment  because  the  guard  of 
honor  for  the  evening  was  chosen  from  it,  and  a 
desire  for  whisky,  for  which  a  certain  class  will 
do  and  dare  anything.  After  quiet  was  restored 
the  dancing,  music,  and  drinking  were  resumed  as 
though  nothing  had  happened.  Meanwhile,  on 
one  side  the  poor  fellows  in  the  hospital  tossed 
and  moaned  and  raved  in  their  restlessness  and 
delirium,  and  on  the  other  lay  the  two  rioters  stiff 
and  stark  upon  the  ground,  their  souls  rudely  thrust 
out  into  the  unknown  amidst  riot  and  intoxication, 
soon  to  be  sobered  but  too  well  by  their  abrupt 
plunge  into  the  dusk  waters  of  death.  Life  pre 
sents  to  the  close  observer  peculiar  phases  and 
contrasts  at  all  times,  but  it  seems  that  in  the 
events  of  this  evening  there  was  a  strange  mingling 
of  life  and  death,  pleasure  and  pain.  Yet  in  the 
sick  and  repentant  soldier  God  was  at  least  fashion 
ing  one  soul  from  out  this  moral  and  social  chaos 
for  the  perfect  symmetry  of  heaven.  I  had  hoped 
that  after  the  night's  uproar  we  should  have  a  quiet 
Sabbath,  but  was  disappointed  in  this,  for  orders 
came  in  the  morning  to  arm,  mount,  and  equip 


MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND    65 

every  available  man  and  send  them  all  to  the  front. 
And  so  throughout  the  day  the  clangor  of 
arms,  the  trampling  of  men  and  horses,  and  the 
words  of  command,  made  the  quiet  peacefulness 
of  a  Northern  Sabbath  a  thing  scarcely  to  be 
imagined." 

Late  in  February,  1864,  Edward  joined  General 
Kilpatrick  in  his  famous  raid  towards  Richmond. 
He  wrote  a  brief  account  of  this,  which  was  pub 
lished  in  Lippincotfs  Magazine. 

"  In  the  dusk  of  Sunday  evening  four  thousand 
men  were  masked  in  the  woods  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rapidan.  Our  scouts  opened  the  way 
by  wading  the  stream  and  pouncing  upon  the 
unsuspecting  picket  of  twenty  Confederates  oppo 
site.  Then  away  we  went  across  a  cold,  rapid 
river,  marching  all  that  night  through  the  dim 
woods  and  openings  in  a  country  that  was 
emphatically  the  enemy's.  Lee's  entire  army 
was  on  our  right,  the  main  Confederate  cavalry 
force  on  our  left.  The  strength  of  our  column 
and  its  objective  point  could  not  remain  long 
unknown. 

"  In  some  unimportant  ways  I  acted  as  aid  for 
Kilpatrick.  A  few  hundred  yards  in  advance  of 
the  main  body  rode  a  vanguard  of  two  hundred 
men  thrown  forward  to  warn  us  should  we  strike 
any  considerable  number  of  the  enemy's  cavalry. 

5 


66    MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID   TOWARD   RICHMOND 

As  is  ever  the  case,  the  horses  of  a  small  force  will 
walk  away  from  a  much  larger  body,  and  it  was 
necessary  from  time  to  time  to  send  word  to  the 
vanguard,  ordering  it  to  '  slow  up.'  This  order  was 
occasionally  intrusted  to  me.  I  was  to  gallop  over 
the  interval  between  the  two  columns,  then  draw 
up  by  the  roadside  and  sit  motionless  on  my  horse 
till  the  general  with  his  staff  came  up.  The  slight 
est  irregularity  of  action  would  bring  a  shot  from 
our  own  men,  while  the  prospect  of  an  interview 
with  the  Johnnies  while  thus  isolated  was  always 
good.  I  saw  one  of  our  officers  shot  that  night. 
He  had  ridden  carelessly  into  the  woods,  and  rode 
out  again  just  before  the  head  of  the  column,  with 
out  instantly  accounf:ng  for  himself.  As  it  was  of 
vital  importance  to  keep  the  movement  secret  as 
long  as  possible,  the  poor  fellow  was  silenced  in 
sad  error  as  to  his  identity. 

"  On  we  rode,  night  and  day,  with  the  briefest 
possible  halts.  At  one  point  we  nearly  captured  a 
railroad  train,  and  might  easily  have  succeeded 
had  not  the  station  and  warehouses  been  in  flames. 
As  it  was,  the  train  approached  us  closely,  then 
backed,  the  shrieking  engine  giving  the  impression 
of  being  startled  to  the  last  degree. 

"  On  a  dreary,  drizzling,  foggy  day  we  passed  a 
milestone  on  which  was  lettered,  '  Four  miles  to 
Richmond.'  It  was  still  '  on  to  Richmond '  with  us 


MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD  RICHMOND     67 

for  what  seemed  a  long  way  farther,  and  then  came 
a  considerable  period  of  hesitancy,  in  which  the 
command  was  drawn  up  for  the  final  dash.  The 
enemy  shelled  a  field  near  us  vigorously,  but  for 
tunately,  or  unfortunately,  the  fog  was  so  dense 
that  neither  party  could  make  accurate  observa 
tions  or  do  much  execution. 

"  For  reasons  that  have  passed  into  history,  the 
attack  was  not  made.  We  withdrew  six  miles  from 
the  city  and  went  into  camp. 

"I  had  scarcely  begun  to  enjoy  much-needed 
rest  before  the  Confederates  came  up  in  the  dark 
ness  and  shelled  us  out  of  such  quarters  as  we 
had  found.  We  had  to  leave  our  boiling  coffee 
behind  us  —  one  of  the  greatest  hardships  I 
have  ever  known.  Then  followed  a  long  night 
ride  down  the  Peninsula,  in  driving  sleet  and 
rain. 

"  The  next  morning  the  sun  broke  out  gloriously, 
warming  and  drying  our  chilled,  wet  forms.  Nearly 
all  that  day  we  maintained  a  line  of  battle  confront 
ing  the  pursuing  enemy.  One  brigade  would  take 
a  defensive  position,  while  the  other  would  march 
about  five  miles  to  a  commanding  point,  where  it 
in  turn  would  form  a  line.  The  first  brigade  would 
then  give  way,  pass  through  the  second,  and  take 
position  well  to  the  rear.  Thus,  although  retreat 
ing,  we  were  always  ready  to  fight.  At  one  point 


68     MARRIAGE  —  THE  RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND 

the  enemy  pressed  us  closely,  and  I  saw  a  magnifi 
cent  cavalry  charge  down  a  gentle  descent  in  the 
road.  Every  sabre  seemed  tipped  with  fire  in  the 
brilliant  sunshine. 

"  In  the  afternoon  it  became  evident  that  there 
was  a  body  of  troops  before  us.  Who  or  what 
they  were  was  at  first  unknown,  and  for  a  time  the 
impression  prevailed  that  we  would  have  to  cut 
our  way  through  by  a  headlong  charge.  We  soon 
learned,  however,  that  the  force  was  a  brigade  of 
colored  infantry,  sent  up  to  cover  our  retreat.  It 
was  the  first  time  we  had  seen  negro  troops,  but 
as  the  long  line  of  glistening  bayonets  and  light- 
blue  uniforms  came  into  view,  prejudices,  if  any 
there  were,  vanished  at  once,  and  a  cheer  from  the 
begrimed  troopers  rang  down  our  line,  waking  the 
echoes.  It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  march  past  that 
array  of  faces,  friendly  though  black,  and  know  we 
were  safe.  They  represented  the  F.  F.  V.'s  of  Old 
Virginia  we  then  wished  to  see.  On  the  last  day 
of  the  march  my  horse  gave  out,  compelling  me  to 
walk  and  lead  him. 

"  On  the  day  after  our  arrival  at  Yorktown  Kil- 
patrick  gave  me  despatches  for  the  authorities  at 
Washington.  President  Lincoln,  learning  that  I 
had  just  returned  from  the  raid,  sent  for  me,  and  I 
had  a  memorable  interview  with  him  alone  in  his 
private  room.  He  expressed  profound  solicitude 


MARRIAGE  —  THE   RAID  TOWARD   RICHMOND    69 

for  Colonel  Dahlgren  and  his  party.  They  had 
been  detached  from  the  main  force,  and  I  could 
give  no  information  concerning  them.  We  event 
ually  learned  of  the  death  of  that  heroic  young 
officer,  Colonel  Dahlgren." 


CHAPTER  V 

HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 

IN  March,  1864,  Edward  began  his  duties  as 
chaplain  of  Hampton  Hospital,  having  been 
appointed  to  this  position  before  the  raid  described 
in  the  preceding  chapter  was  undertaken.  Mrs. 
Roe  joined  him  at  Washington  and  they  went  to 
Hampton  together.  A  tribute  is  here  due  the 
brave  young  wife,  who,  leaving  a  home  of  luxury, 
accepted  without  a  word  of  regret  the  privations 
of  hospital  life  and  was  untiring  in  her  devotion  to 
the  sick  and  wounded.  The  letters  which  follow 
show  what  that  life  was  during  the  last  two  years 
of  the  war.  The  first  is  an  appeal  for  books  for 
the  sick  soldiers  made  through  The  Evangelist,  and 
is  preceded  by  a  note  of  explanation  from  the 
editors  of  that  paper. 

"  We  have  received  the  following  letter  from  the 
esteemed  and  efficient  chaplain  of  the  Hampton 
Hospital,  Virginia,  Rev.  Mr.  Roe,  who,  as  it  will 
be  seen,  is  desirous  of  securing  a  well-selected  sol 
diers'  library  for  the  use  of  the  hospital.  Many  of 
our  readers  formed  an  agreeable  acquaintance 


HAMPTON   HOSPITAL  71 

with  Mr.  Roe,  through  his  correspondence  with 
The  Evangelist  while  chaplain  of  the  Harris  Light 
Cavalry;  and  we  would  refer  all  others  for  an 
estimate  of  the  man,  as  also  of  the  nature  and  ex 
tent  of  his  duties  in  his  new  position,  to  an  inter 
esting  paper  in  the  August  number  of  Harper's 
Magazine,  on  the  Chesapeake  and  Hampton  Hos 
pitals.  We  shall  take  pleasure  in  aiding  this 
praiseworthy  object  in  every  way  in  our  power, 
and  we  trust  that  the  money  required  for  the  pur 
chase  of  these  books  will  be  speedily  contributed. 

4  U.  S.  GENERAL  HOSPITAL,  FORTRESS  MONROE,  VA. 

July  27,  1864. 

'  READERS  OF  THE  EVANGELIST  :  —  Pardon  me 
if  I  say  a  few  plain  words  in  preface  to  a  request. 
I  wish  to  appeal  to  a  quality  that  I  hope  is  univer 
sal  —  gratitude.  That  the  North  is  grateful  for  the 
self-sacrifice  of  its  soldiers  is  well  proved  by  its 
noble  charities  in  their  behalf.  But,  my  Northern 
friends,  you  who  dwell  securely  in  beautiful  and 
healthful  homes,  can  you  not  give  a  little  more  for 
those  who  are  giving  all  for  you  ? 

'  The  U.  S.  General  Hospital  at  Hampton,  Va.,  is 
very  large  this  summer.  The  average  is  two  thou 
sand  five  hundred  patients,  and  we  often  have  three 
thousand.  Accommodations  are  in  process  of  con 
struction  for  still  larger  numbers.  This  is  now  the 


72  HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 

nearest  permanent  hospital  to  General  Grant's 
army.  Almost  daily  transports  from  the  front  leave 
at  our  wharf  sick  and  mutilated  men  by  hundreds, 
and  we  in  turn  send  those  North  who  are  able 
to  bear  further  transportation.  Thus  our  wards 
become  mainly  filled  with  what  are  termed  the 
"  worst  cases  "  —  men  with  whom  the  struggle  for 
life  will  be  long  and  doubtful.  I  could  take  you 
through  our  wards,  and  show  you  long  rows  of 
men  with  thigh  amputations,  fractured  thighs; 
men  who  have  lost  arms,  hands,  and  both  their 
feet ;  and  in  short,  men  with  great  gaping,  ghastly 
wounds  in  every  part  of  the  body.  With  such  in 
juries  nothing  will  sustain  but  cheerful  courage; 
despondency  is  almost  always  fatal.  The  only 
true  basis  of  such  courage  is  God's  religion,  but  to 
this  all-important  condition  much  can  be  added 
that  is  most  excellent.  But  could  you  ask  for 
more  than  these  men  have  done  and  suffered?  I 
think  they  have  done  their  part.  Yours  is  not  so 
hard,  but  it  is  important.  In  your  abundant  pro 
visions  for  their  suffering  bodies,  do  not  forget 
rations  for  their  minds.  There  are  hundreds  in 
this  hospital  who  must  lie  upon  their  beds,  weeks, 
and  even  months,  before  they  can  even  hope  to 
hobble  out  into  the  world  again  with  crutch  and 
cane.  How  shall  they  spend  these  long,  hot, 
weary  days?  Give  them  cheerful,  entertaining, 


HAMPTON  HOSPITAL  73 

instructive  books,  and  the  question  is  about  solved. 
Who  can  calculate  the  value  of  a  brave,  cheerful 
book?  It  stimulates  and  strengthens  the  mind, 
which  reacts  upon  the  weakened  body,  and  the 
man  is  at  once  made  stronger,  wiser,  and  better. 
I  felt  that  first  of  all  I  ought  to  have  a  religious 
library,  and  through  some  effort,  and  the  kindness 
of  friends,  have  obtained  a  very  fair  collection. 
But  cheerful,  light,  entertaining  books  are  few  and 
far  between,  while  there  is  almost  an  entire  dearth 
of  histories,  travels,  etc.  I  find  that  sick  soldiers, 
even  the  best  of  them,  are  like  good  people  North, 
they  do  not  like  religious  reading  all  the  time. 
The  works  of  Irving,  John  S.  C  Abbott,  Dickens, 
Cooper,  Scott,  and  T.  S.  Arthur,  would  be  invalu 
able  from  both  a  sanitary  and  a  moral  point  of 
view,  for  they  would  remove  the  parent  of  all  evils— 
idleness.  Poetry  also  is  very  much  asked  for.  My 
simple  request,  therefore,  is  that  out  of  gratitude  to 
the  brave  suffering  men  who  throng  the  wards  of 
Hampton  Hospital,  you  would  send  them  good 
cheerful  books.  I  have  an  excellent  librarian,  and 
I  promise  that  they  shall  be  carefully  looked  after 
and  preserved.  Among  the  thousands  who  have 
been  here  and  gone  away,  I  have  scarcely  lost  a 
book. 

'  Messrs.    Harpers,   and    Appletons,  and   other 
prominent  city  publishers,  have  generously  offered 


74  HAMPTON   HOSPITAL 

me  their  books  at  half  price  for  hospital  purposes. 
All  contributions  in  money  sent  to  me,  or  to  the 
offices  of  the  New  York  Evangelist,  The  Observer, 
and  the  Brooklyn  Daily  Union,  will  be  promptly 
and  judiciously  laid  out  for  such  books  as  are 
needed.  All  contributions  in  books  sent  to  the 
above-named  places  will  be  forwarded  to  the  hos 
pital  in  my  care.'  " 

Some  years  after  the  war  was  over,  my  brother 
took  a  trip  to  Fortress  Monroe  and  visited  the 
scenes  of  his  former  labors.  I  quote  from  a  letter 
telling  of  the  result  of  his  appeal  for  a  soldier's 
library  and  of  the  subsequent  use  that  was  made 
of  the  books. 

"  We  entered  the  fort,  presented  our  letter  to 
General  Barry,  in  command,  who  received  us  with 
the  utmost  courtesy.  The  band  discoursed  de 
lightful  music.  We  examined  the  mitrailleuse,  of 
which  the  world  has  heard  so  much  of  late.  One 
of  the  most  interesting  points  to  me  was  the  Post 
Library.  Here  among  many  others  I  found  all 
the  books  that  once  formed  our  hospital  library. 
Loyal  Northern  friends,  who  were  ever  caring  for 
the  soldier's  well-being,  enabled  me  to  gather  and 
purchase  about  three  thousand  volumes.  I  know 
that  it  will  be  gratifying  to  them  to  learn  that  their 
gifts,  so  far  from  being  lost  or  destroyed,  are  all 
here  in  excellent  order,  and  still  doing  the  work 


HAMPTON  HOSPITAL  75 

for  which  they  were  designed.  When  a  book  be 
comes  badly  worn  it  is  sent  away  and  rebound. 
The  private  soldiers,  of  which  there  are  several 
hundred,  as  well  as  the  officers,  have  free  access  to 
them.  I  was  told  by  the  soldier  in  charge  that 
between  two  and  three  hundred  of  these  books 
were  taken  out  and  read  monthly.  Under  General 
Barry's  careful  supervision  they  will  be  in  use  for 
years  to  come.  He  evidently  regards  his  men  as 
something  more  than  machines." 

It  was  inevitable  that  my  brother  should  witness 
many  sad  partings  during  those  long  years  of 
conflict,  and  the  strain  upon  his  sympathies  was 
very  great,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  letters  that 
follow. 

"  Among  the  painful  and  tragic  events  that  oc 
curred  in  our  hospital  at  Fortress  Monroe,  there 
was  one  wherein  heaven  and  earth  were  strangely 
mingled.  The  arm  of  a  strong,  powerful  man  had 
been  amputated  at  the  shoulder  joint.  He  was  full 
of  vitality  and  made  a  long  but  vain  struggle  for 
life.  Day  after  day,  and  week  after  week,  he  lay, 
scarcely  daring  to  move,  lest  the  artery  should 
break  and  his  life  blood  ebb  away.  But  ever  at 
his  side  (it  seemed  to  me  that  she  almost  never 
left  him)  sat  his  true,  patient  wife.  Strange  and 
incongruous  did  her  slight  and  graceful  form,  her 
pale,  beautiful  face  appear  in  that  place  of  wounds 


76  HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 

and  death.  The  rough  soldiers  were  never  rough 
or  profane  in  her  presence,  and  their  kindly  sym 
pathy  often  touched  me.  For  long  weeks  the  scale 
turned  for  neither  life  nor  death,  but  at  last  the 
sharp  agony  of  hope  and  fear  ended  in  the  dull 
pain  of  despair.  He  must  die.  The  artery  broke 
and  bled  again  and  again,  and  skill  would  soon  be 
of  no  avail.  Some  time  previous  to  this,  a  mes 
sage  had  come  to  the  poor  wife  that  her  mother 
was  dying,  and  she  was  requested  to  return  home 
immediately. 

"  '  No/  she  said,  '  my  mother  is  among  friends ; 
my  husband  is  alone ;  I  must  stay  with  him.' 

"  Late  one  night,  when  the  certainty  of  death 
was  apparent,  they  sent  for  me,  and  we  three  had 
a  long,  calm  talk  in  the  dim,  crowded  ward.  The 
brave,  true  soldier  did  not  regret  that  he  had  en 
tered  his  country's  service,  though  it  cost  him  so 
dearly,  but  he  spoke  a  few  words  in  regard  to 
those  who  caused  the  war  that  must  ever  hang 
upon  them  like  millstones.  Turning  to  his  young 
wife  with  an  affection  beautiful  to  look  upon,  he 
said :  — 

" '  Mary,  you  have  prepared  me  to  die,  now  you 
must  go  home  and  do  the  same  for  your  poor 
mother.' 

"  These  brief  words  revealed  a  world  of  meaning. 
She  had  not  been  sitting  at  his  side  in  helpless 


HAMPTON  HOSPITAL  77 

pain,  looking  with  fearful  eyes  into  the  dreary 
future  when  she  should  be  alone  and  dependent 
with  her  child  in  a  cold,  selfish  world.  Forgetting 
her  own  heart-break,  she  had  been  untiring  in  her 
efforts  to  brighten  his  pathway  down  into  the  dark 
valley  with  the  hope  of  heaven.  God  had  blessed 
her  angel  work,  for  he  seemed  a  Christian.  I  went 
away  from  that  bedside  more  awed  than  if  I  had 
come  from  the  presence  of  a  king. 

"  Early  one  morning  I  was  hastily  summoned  to 
the  ward.  It  was  crowded  and  confused.  The 
last  hours  had  now  come.  The  artery  had  broken 
away  beyond  remedy,  and  from  the  ghastly  wound 
the  poor  man's  life-blood  poured  away  in  tor 
rents,  crimsoning  the  floor  far  and  near.  His  face 
was  pale  and  wild,  for  death  had  come  at  last  in 
an  awful  form.  In  mistaken  kindness  they  had 
kept  his  wife  from  him,  fearing  the  effect  of  the 
scene  upon  her.  Drawn  by  her  frantic  cries  to  the 
ward-master's  room,  I  went  and  said  to  her  — 
'  My  poor  friend,  you  can  go  to  your  husband, 
but  for  his  sake  you  must  be  perfectly  calm.  We 
can  do  nothing  for  him  if  he  is  excited.'  For  his 
sake,  ah  !  yes,  for  his  sake  she  could  do  anything, 
even  master  the  whirlwind  of  sorrow  at  her  heart. 
In  a  moment  she  became  as  quiet  and  gentle  as  a 
lamb,  and  crept  noiselessly  to  his  side.  The  man 
rallied  and  lived  a  short  time,  and  husband  and 


78  HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 

wife  were  left  alone.  We  may  well  draw  the  veil 
over  that  last  solemn  farewell. 

"  For  a  brief  space  the  pair  sat  on  the  shores  of 
time,  the  extreme  cape  and  promontory  of  life. 
All  around  rolled  the  ocean  of  eternity.  Then 
one  went  forward  into  the  unknown,  and  the  cur 
tain  between  the  two  worlds  fell.  In  wild  agony 
she  clasped  his  lifeless  form.  The  ward-master 
sought  tenderly  to  lift  her  and  lead  her  away. 
For  a  moment  the  tempest  in  her  soul  found  ex 
pression  and  she  sprang  upon  him  like  a  tigress. 
Then  came  again  the  strange,  unnatural  calm  like 
that  when  the  Master  said,  '  Peace,  be  still !  ' 
Quietly,  thoughtfully  she  made  all  her  arrange 
ments  and  soon  went  northward  to  her  dying 
mother,  taking  the  precious  dust  of  him  she  had 
loved  with  her,  and  we  saw  her  no  more.  But 
her  sad,  pale,  patient  face  will  haunt  me  through 
life. 

"  If  all  the  bits  of  romance  in  these  hospitals 
were  gathered  up  they  would  make  volumes.  I 
will  instance  only  two  cases. 

"  It  is  somewhat  common  to  get  shot  now,  and 
yet  for  all  that  it  is  none  the  less  rather  a  painful 
and  tragical  experience.  Well,  two  of  our  soldiers 
were  shot;  one  had  his  arm  taken  off,  and  the 
other  lost  an  arm  and  a  leg  also.  They  both  wrote 
to  their  respective  fair  ones,  expressing  the  fear 


HAMPTON  HOSPITAL  79 

that  they  would  no  longer  wish  to  unite  themselves 
with  such  mutilated  specimens  of  humanity,  and  if 
such  were  their  feelings  they  were  free.  The  female 
engaged  to  the  man  who  had  lost  an  arm  availed 
herself  of  his  release.  She  could  not  think  of 
marrying  him  under  such  circumstances.  The 
blow  was  fatal  to  the  poor  fellow.  He  became 
hopelessly  deranged,  and  is  now  in  the  asylum  in 
this  city.  Still,  considering  her  character,  perhaps 
he  escaped  a  worse  fate. 

"  The  lady  engaged  to  the  soldier  who  had  lost 
both  his  arm  and  leg  replied  that  she  honored 
him  for  his  wounds;  that  she  loved  him  all  the 
more  for  his  patriotism  and  the  heroism  which  led 
him  to  incur  them ;  and  that  if  he  would  permit 
her  she  would  come  on,  and  take  care  of  him. 
She  did  so,  and  married  him." 

One  turns  with  a  feeling  of  relief,  after  the  har 
rowing  details  in  the  letters  already  given,  to  this 
account  of  the  Christmas  festivities  at  Hampton 
Hospital. 

"  We  are  told  that '  the  desert  shall  blossom  as 
the  rose.'  We  believe  it,  for  even  the  hospital,  — 
the  house  of  disease  and  wounds,  the  spot  ever 
shadowed  by  the  wings  of  the  dark  angel,  —  even 
this  place  of  sombre  associations  can  wreathe  itself 
in  festive  garlands  and  resound  with  songs.  Doctor 
McClellan,  surgeon  in  charge,  has  the  enlightened 


80  HAMPTON  HOSPITAL 

opinion  that  pills  and  physics  are  not  the  only 
health-restoring  influences  that  can  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  his  patients.  All  efforts  to  celebrate 
the  holidays  with  spirit  have  received  his  hearty 
sympathy  and  cooperation.  The  joyous  season, 
so  full  of  happy  memories,  has  not  passed  in  dull 
monotony.  Though  winds  blew  high  and  cold, 
still,  throughout  Thursday,  Friday,  and  Saturday, 
the  axes  rang  merrily  in  the  woods.  Huge  masses 
of  holly,  cedar,  and  pine  might  be  seen  moving 
towards  the  different  wards,  and  approaching  near 
you  would  find  a  nurse  or  convalescent  staggering 
along  beneath  the  green  and  fragrant  burden. 
Under  the  magic  of  many  skilful  hands  the  pliant 
boughs  are  soon  tied  and  twisted  into  a  thousand 
devices.  Men  with  only  one  hand  worked  with 
the  rest.  Men  possessing  but  a  single  leg  were 
busy  as  the  others.  Thump,  thump,  over  the  floor 
go  the  crutches,  as  old  battered  veterans  hobbled 
about  in  all  directions,  to  view  in  different  lights 
the  artistic  and  fantastic  results  of  their  labors. 
Even  the  dull  face  of  chronic  pain  lights  up  and 
wanly  smiles,  while  dim  eyes,  fast  closing  on 
earthly  scenes,  gaze  wistfully  on  the  fragrant  ever 
greens  and  query  to  themselves  if  they  are  to  be 
the  symbols  of  their  memories  at  distant  homes. 

"  But  though  many  wards  blossomed   out  into 
holiday  garlands,  the  crowning  glories  of  the  kind 


HAMPTON   HOSPITAL  8 1 

were  to  be  found  in  Ward  C.  Quaint  devices, 
hanging  festoons,  wreaths  and  shields  and  graceful 
arches,  draped  the  place  in  varied  beauties  like 
the  tapestry  of  old,  which  turned  rough  and 
gloomy  apartments  into  warm  and  silken  bowers. 
The  feathery  cedar,  tasselled  pine,  and  far-famed 
laurel  formed  the  rich  background  for  the  bright 
berries  of  the  Christmas  holly  which  glistened  like 
rubies  set  in  emerald  folds.  Flags  were  looped 
across  the  stage,  and  the  curtains  in  the  rear  also 
showed  the  stars  and  stripes.  The  hospital  choir 
and  glee-club  had  here  prepared  an  entertainment 
most  agreeable  to  the  tastes  of  all.  Their  motto, 
a  beautiful  transparency,  explains  its  character, 
'  We  come  with  songs  to  greet  you.'  As  darkness 
fell  a  throng  surrounded  every  door.  Up  the 
high  steps  to  the  main  entrance,  an  hour  before 
the  doors  were  opened,  crowding,  jostling  hun 
dreds  gathered,  seeming  like  a  human  wave  lifted 
by  some  powerful  impulse  from  the  sea  of  heads 
below.  Around  the  building  in  circling  eddies, 
knots  of  men  sauntered  talking,  wondering,  and 
anticipating  concerning  the  pleasures  of  the 
evening.  Above  the  swaying  masses  numerous 
crutches  might  be  seen.  Thus  raised  aloft  they 
seemed  like  standards,  showing  well  the  spirit  of 
our  soldiers.  It  is  not  in  wounds  to  keep  them 
at  home.  If  they  have  the  sad  misfortune  not  to 

6 


82  HAMFTON   HOSPITAL 

have  two  legs  beneath  them,  they  are  sure  to  go  on 
one  if  anything  unusual  calls  them  out.  Within, 
now,  the  lamps  are  lighted,  down  the  long  and 
echoing  ward,  and  through  the  festoons  and  glis 
tening  arches,  they  wink  and  twinkle  like  fireflies 
in  a  cedar  forest.  The  doors  are  opened  and, 
under  Doctor  McClellan's  wise  and  careful  super 
vision,  at  least  a  thousand  persons  are  soon  ad 
mitted  and  seated.  Those  not  so  fortunate  as  to 
get  seats  fill  every  space  of  standing  room.  The 
hall  is  full,  and  those  who  cannot  gain  admittance 
crowd  around  outside  the  windows,  where  faces 
gleam  in  the  fitful  light,  like  framed  and  grotesque 
pictures. 

"  At  a  given  signal  the  orchestra  commenced,  and 
the  hum  and  buzz  of  many  voices  died  away  like 
a  breeze  in  the  forest.  But  it  is  useless  to  attempt 
to  describe  music  —  songs  and  anthems  that  seem 
like  living  spirits  which  by  powerful  spells  may  be 
called  up  to  float  and  pass  before  you,  and  stir  the 
soul  with  magic  influences.  It  was  no  rude  affair. 
Ears  that  have  been  educated  at  the  Academy 
of  Music  would  have  tingled  with  novel  and  de 
lightful  sensations,  could  they  have  heard  those 
deep,  rich  soldiers'  voices  accompanied  by  our 
lady  nurses,  and  the  lady  teachers  of  the  Tyler 
House,  chanting  our  national  anthems,  or  exciting 
irresistible  mirth  by  their  comic  songs.  Mr.  Til- 


HAMPTON   HOSPITAL  83 

den's  ripe,  powerful,  mellow  voice  moved  every 
heart,  and  more  than  satisfied  the  nicest  and  most 
critical  ear.  Mr.  George  Terry,  changeful  as  an 
April  day,  now  convulsed  the  audience  with  laugh 
ter,  and  again,  a  moment  afterwards,  caused  all 
eyes  to  overflow.  Mrs.  Meachann,  Miss  East 
man,  Mr.  Sears,  and  Mr.  Allen  sustained  their 
parts  with  marked  ability,  and  little  Miss  Mary 
White  brought  down  the  house  by  singing  a 
ballad  whose  simple  beauty  was  universally  ap 
preciated.  But  where  all  perfectly  performed  the 
parts  assigned  to  them,  it  is  almost  invidious  to 
make  distinctions.  Mr.  Metcalf,  the  leader  of  the 
choir,  must  have  been  satisfied  with  the  perform 
ances,  as  certainly  all  others  were.  '  Home,  Sweet 
Home,'  closed  the  entertainment,  and  carried  us 
all  back  to  that  dear  and  never-to-be-forgotten 
place.  Again  in  fancy  we  gathered  around  the 
familiar  hearthstone,  made  warm  and  bright  by 
blazing  fire  and  sweet  memories  of  other  days. 
God  grant  that  another  Christmas  day  may  find  us 
all  there. 

"  But  in  the  hospital  there  were  hundreds  con 
fined  by  sickness,  wounds,  and  weakness  to  their 
beds.  However  good  their  will  may  have  been 
they  were  physically  unable  to  join  with  their 
more  fortunate  companions  in  outside  enjoyments. 
They  were  not  forgotten  or  neglected.  On  Sab- 


84  HAMPTON   HOSPITAL 

bath  afternoon  the  choir  again  assembled,  and 
commencing  with  Ward  One,  we  passed  through 
fourteen  wards,  making  the  old  walls  ring  again 
with  Christmas  anthems.  This,  with  wishing  the 
patients  a  merry  Christmas,  and  that  another  re 
turn  of  the  happy  day  might  find  them  all  safe  at 
home,  and  the  reading,  in  Luke  ii.,  of  the  angelic 
announcement  to  the  shepherds  of  the  '  unspeak 
able  gift '  to  us  all,  constituted  the  simple  service. 
On  Monday  there  was  much  high  feeding.  Sleek 
cattle  and  corpulent  pigs  were  roasted  whole,  and 
there  was  a  powerful  mortality  in  the  hospital 
poultry-yard.  Men  who  could  never  carve  their 
fortunes  showed  wonderful  ability  in  carving  tur 
key.  These  substantial  luxuries,  seasoned  by  the 
recent  victories,  made  for  us  a  royal  feast,  to  which 
the  sovereigns  in  blue  sat  down  with  unmingled 
satisfaction." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND  CHAPEL 

IN  a  letter  to  the  Hon.  William  Cullen  Bryant, 
then  editor  of  the  Evening  Post,  Edward  gives 
an   account  of  the  establishment  of  his  hospital 
farm,  and  tells  of  its  benefit  to  the  men  under  his 
care. 

"  HON.  WILLIAM  C.  BRYANT  —  DEAR  SIR  :  The 
meeting  in  behalf  of  '  New  York's  disabled  soldiers' 
has  deeply  interested  me  and  awakened  many  war 
memories.  During  the  last  two  years  of  the  Re 
bellion  I  had  some  experience,  in  a  small  way, 
which  may  suggest  useful  features  in  a  Soldiers' 
Home.  At  that  time  I  was  one  of  the  chaplains 
of  "the  Fortress  Monroe  hospitals,  and  the  cam 
paigns  in  the  vicinity  of  Petersburg  and  Richmond 
often  filled  our  long  barracks  to  repletion  and  also 
covered  the  adjacent  acres  with  temporary  tent 
wards.  Lying  ardund  the  hospital  there  was  an 
abundance  of  idle  and  unfenced  land.  With  the 
sanction  of  Doctor  McClellan,  the  surgeon  in  charge, 
I  had  this  enclosed  and  planted  with  such  vege 
tables  as  were  most  useful  and  conducive  to  health, 


86  THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND  CHAPEL 

the  odorous  onion  taking  the  lead.  The  tulip 
mania  had  its  day,  but  the  weakness  of  average 
humanity  for  this  bulb  is  as  old  as  history  —  see 
Numbers  xi.,  5  —  and  apparently  it  is  only  growing 
more  prevalent  with  the  ages.  If  this  is  evolution 
in  the  wrong  direction  Mr.  Huxley  should  look 
after  it. 

"  The  labor  of  the  hospital  farm  was  performed 
by  the  patients  themselves,  and  very  many  soon 
became  deeply  interested  in  their  tasks.  When  a 
man  became  so  far  convalescent  from  illness  or 
wounds  as  to  be  able  to  do  a  little  work,  he  was 
detailed  for  the  garden  and  employed  in  its  lighter 
labors.  As  he  grew  stronger  he  was  put  at  heavier 
work.  Heroes  who  had  lost  arms  and  legs  supple 
mented  each  other's  deficiencies,  the  two  maimed 
men  contriving  to  do  between  them  far  more  than 
many  a  stout  fellow  who  now  demands  $1.50  a 
day.  A  man  with  one  hand  could  sow  seed  and 
weed  the  growing  vegetables,  while  his  comrade 
hitched  along  on  his  crutch  and  vigorously  hoed 
the  ground  between  the  rows.  I  sometimes  had 
as  many  as  a  hundred  men  at  work,  and  I  ever 
found  that  such  tasks  benefited  body  and  soul.  It 
did  one's  heart  good  to  see  pallid  faces  grow  brown 
and  ruddy,  and  flabby  muscles  round  and  hard. 
It  did  one  more  good  thus  easily  to  banish  home 
sickness  and  the  miserable  incubus  of  ennui  from 


THE   HOSPITAL   FARM   AND   CHAPEL  87 

which  the  sufferer  is  prone  to  seek  relief  in  some 
form  of  vicious  excitement.  For  the  satisfaction 
of  those  who  ask  for  more  practical  results  I  can 
state  that  we  were  able  to  send  green  vegetables  to 
the  hospital  kitchens  by  the  wagonload.  As  the 
record  of  the  second  year  at  the  farm,  made  at  the 
time,  I  find  among  other  items  the  following:  700 
bushels  of  snap  beans  in  the  pod,  120  do.  lima 
beans,  130  do.  carrots,  125  do.  peas,  470  do.  pota 
toes,  250  do.  tomatoes,  1,500  bunches  of  green 
onions,  30,000  heads  of  cabbage,  26,900  ears  of 
sweet  corn,  2,500  muskmelons,  etc.  A  large 
poultry  yard,  enclosing  four  acres,  was  also  built, 
and  many  other  improvements  made,  all  being 
accomplished  by  the  willing  labor  of  the  convales 
cents  themselves,  who  more  rapidly  regained  their 
strength  while  thus  furnishing  the  means  of  health 
to  those  still  confined  within  the  walls. 

"  Recalling  these  facts  I  am  greatly  pleased  to 
learn  that  the  *  New  York  Home '  is  to  be  located 
on  a  farm,  for  thus  it  may  be  made  a  home  in  re 
ality.  Providence  put  the  first  man  into  a  garden, 
and  few  men  have  lived  since  who  have  not  felt 
more  at  home  when  a  garden  lay  about  the  door." 

During  the  years  that  Edward  was  at  Hampton 
Hospital,  his  friend  Mr.  Merwin  was  doing  a  noble 
work  among  the  soldiers  in  the  hospitals  at  the 
front,  under  the  direction  of  the  Christian  Com- 


88  THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL 

mission.  My  brother  at  one  time  wished  to  be  re 
lieved  of  his  duties  as  chaplain  for  several  weeks, 
and  Mr.  Merwin  kindly  consented  to  take  his  place. 
He  afterwards  wrote  of  this  time :  — 

"  I  found  that  Edward's  presence  among  the 
sick  and  wounded  was  sadly  missed,  and  that  he 
had  labored  in  many  ways  to  contribute  to  their 
comfort  and  happiness.  He  brought  from  the 
North  an  experienced  farmer  and  supplied  the 
hospital  with  an  abundance  of  excellent  vegetables. 
Subsequently  a  church  was  erected  by  his  efforts 
for  the  growing  needs  of  that  post." 

While  absent  at  the  North  my  brother  raised 
most  of  the  funds  necessary  to  build  this  chapel  at 
Hampton.  When  he  revisited  the  place  years 
afterward,  he  found  the  chapel  still  in  use.  He 
was  gratified  also  to  learn  that  the  hospital  library 
continued  to  be  of  service.  He  says : 

"  Some  of  us  rode  out  to  the  former  site  of  the 
hospital.  Many  pleasant  changes  have  occurred. 
The  acres  of  ground  occupied  by  sick  and  wounded 
men  are  now  covered  with  orchards  and  the  homes 
of  peaceful  industry.  The  hospital  garden  has  in 
part  become  the  grounds  of  a  college  for  freed- 
men,  and  is  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation.  The 
college  itself  is  a  fine  building,  and  under  the  able, 
energetic  administration  of  General  Armstrong,  is 
full  of  promise  for  the  race  that  we  have  so  long 


THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL  89 

kept  in  ignorance.  He  is  teaching  them  many 
things  of  vital  use,  and  among  these  one  of  the 
most  important  is  a  wise,  economical  culture  of 
the  ground.  The  chapel  to  which  we  have  re 
ferred  is  inclosed  within  the  cemetery  grounds, 
and  only  needs  a  few  repairs  now  and  then,  to 
preserve  it  a  substantial  church  for  many  years  to 
come.  I  was  told  that  there  had  been  religious 
services  in  it  nearly  every  Sabbath  since  the  war. 

"  The  soldiers'  monument,  now  seen  for  the  first 
time,  impressed  me  most  favorably.  In  its  severe 
simplicity  it  truthfully  commemorates  the  lives  and 
characters  of  those  who  sleep  beneath.  Over 
three  hundred  dollars  was  given  to  me  by  the  sol 
diers  in  twenty-five  and  fifty  cent  stamps  and  one- 
dollar  bills,  and  with  some  these  gifts  were  almost 
like  the  widow's  mite  —  all  they  had.  It  was  most 
gratifying  to  see  how  nobly  their  wish  and  purpose 
had  been  carried  out.  That  it  has  been  so  is  due 
to  that  friend  of  the  soldier  and  of  all  humanity, 
Miss  D.  L.  Dix,  who  to  the  mites  of  the  hospital 
patients  added  thousands  of  dollars  collected  else 
where." 

From  another  letter  I  take  Edward's  description 
of  the  chapel. 

"  The  building  is  cruciform  in  its  shape,  and  at 
the  foot  rises  a  light  and  graceful  tower  and  spire, 
sixty  feet  high,  surmounted  by  a  cross  showing 


90  THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL 

each  way.  The  style  of  architecture  is  Gothic. 
The  chapel-room  is  thirty  feet  by  sixty,  with  a  high, 
arched  ceiling.  It  is  beautifully  and  smoothly 
plastered,  and  whitened  with  some  kind  of  hard 
finish.  Two  aisles  run  down  the  room,  thus  mak 
ing  three  tiers  of  seats.  These  are  somewhat 
Gothic  in  their  form,  and  are  stained  black-walnut, 
surmounted  by  a  white  round  moulding,  which 
makes  a  pleasing  contrast.  In  the  place  where 
the  head  of  the  cross  should  have  been,  there  is 
merely  a  small  projection  from  the  main  building, 
forming  in  the  large  chapel-room  an  alcove  or  re 
cess.  A  beautiful  Gothic  frame  containing  two 
medium-sized  and  one  large  window  of  stained 
glass  forms  the  rear  of  this  projection,  and  aids  in 
lighting  the  room.  All  the  windows  in  the  chapel 
part  are  of  stained  glass,  and  they  render  the  light 
very  soft  and  pleasant.  I  found  them  about  as 
cheap  as  curtains,  and  much  more  pretty  and 
durable.  The  space  in  the  alcove  is  occupied  by 
a  slightly  raised  platform  and  a  plain,  simple  pulpit, 
still  lacking  a  cushion.  It  is  a  very  easy  room 
to  speak  in,  and  in  it  music  sounds  remarkably 
well.  The  left  arm  of  the  cross,  towards  the  hos 
pital,  constitutes  the  library,  and  is  a  large,  airy 
room,  thirty  feet  by  twenty-four,  furnished  with 
tables,  book-shelves,  and  reading-desks.  Our  col 
lection  of  books  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  in 


THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL  91 

the  hospital  service.  Here  also  will  be  found  the 
magazines,  dailies,  and  weeklies,  and  prominent 
among  our  files  will  be  The  Evangelist.  The  right 
arm  of  the  cross  consists  of  four  small  but  pleasant 
rooms,  and  will  now  be  used  as  the  chaplain's 
quarters,  and  at  some  future  time  as  a  parsonage. 

"  The  building  is  of  a  dark  color,  with  white 
doors  and  window-frames.  Around  the  entire 
structure  has  been  built  a  rustic  Gothic  fence, 
constructed  of  smooth  pine  poles,  and  forming  a 
heart-shaped  enclosure.  Therefore  we  have  the 
following  device :  the  church  in  the  centre  of  the 
heart." 

Soon  after  Edward's  return  from  the  North  to 
his  work  at  the  hospital  there  was  a  marked  re 
vival  of  religion  among  the  sick  and  wounded 
men.  He  says :  — 

"  I  think  the  most  marked  feature  of  the  re 
vival  is  the  reclamation  of  those  who  have  gone 
astray  —  who  have  found  the  temptations  of  camp 
life  too  powerful  to  be  resisted.  Since  I  have 
been  in  the  service  I  have  met  hundreds  of  soldiers 
who  acknowledged  that  they  had  been  professors 
of  religion  at  home.  They  had  entered  the  army 
with  the  best  of  intentions,  but  the  lack  of  Sabbath 
privileges,  of  the  sacred  influences  of  the  hearth, 
and  all  the  numberless  aids  which  bolster  up  a 
church  member  at  the  North,  together  with  the 


92  THE   HOSPITAL   FARM   AND   CHAPEL 

strong  and  positive  allurements  to  sin  in  the  field, 
had  discovered  to  them  their  weakness  and  they 
had  fallen.  But  in  most  cases  it  would  seem  that 
the  old  vital  spark  still  smouldered  at  the  bottom 
of  their  hearts.  According  to  their  own  confes 
sions,  they  are  restless  and  dissatisfied,  and  unable 
to  attain  to  the  stolid  or  reckless  apathy  of  those 
who  have  never  tasted  of  the  heavenly  manna. 
Put  them  under  the  influence  of  an  earnest  prayer- 
meeting  or  faithful  sermon,  and  they  are  like  old 
rheumatic  flies  in  an  April  sun,  or  the  apparently 
dead  and  leafless  trees  in  the  warm  breath  of 
spring,  or  the  veteran  soldier  who  hears  the  famil 
iar  call  to  arms  after  years  of  ignoble  peace.  It  is 
very  interesting  to  watch  them  in  our  meetings. 
The  first  evening  they  take  seats  far  back,  and 
look  around  with  an  uneasy  air,  as  if  almost 
ashamed  to  be  seen.  The  next  evening  they  sit 
near  the  leader.  They  soon  venture  to  respond 
faintly  to  some  of  the  more  earnest  prayers.  At 
last,  unable  to  restrain  the  rising  tide  of  feeling, 
they  rise  up,  and  often  with  tears  and  penitence 
confess  their  backslidings,  resolve  to  be  faithful 
hereafter,  and  ask  the  prayers  of  all  present  that 
they  may  never  be  so  weak  as  to  wander  again. 
They  then  take  their  places  amongst  those  whom 
I  call  the  fighting  part  of  the  congregation — those 
whose  active  aid  I  can  rely  upon. 


THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL  93 

"  In  one  of  the  wards,  where  '  the  straightfor 
ward  Christian  '  (as  I  call  him)  is  on  duty,  they 
are  having  a  little  revival  by  themselves.  He 
gives  its  inmates  no  peace  till  they  become  Chris 
tians  in  self-defence.  During  the  beautiful  moon 
light  nights  of  last  month,  he  organized  a  little 
prayer-meeting,  which  met  on  the  banks  of  an 
arm  of  the  bay  that  runs  up  into  the  mainland  near 
the  ward,  and  there  claimed  and  verified  the  prom 
ise  of  '  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together 
in  My  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.' 

"  God  does  seem  near  the  soldiers,  and  the  sol 
diers  as  a  general  thing  are  ready  to  respond  to 
His  gracious  invitations,  not  only  here  but  else 
where,  and  in  fact  in  every  place  where  Christians 
are  willing  to  come  down,  or  rather  up  to  their 
level,  and  work  among  them  with  a  genuine, 
heartfelt  sympathy. 

"  In  a  recent  letter  from  the  front,  my  brother, 
Rev.  Alfred  C.  Roe,  Chaplain  iO4th  N.  Y.  V., 
writes :  '  We  have  weekly  and  almost  daily  con 
versions.  Our  prayer-meetings,  though  held  in 
the  trenches,  and  often  in  close  proximity  to  the 
enemy,  are  largely  attended,  and  unless  prevented 
by  important  business  the  colonel  is  always  pres 
ent.  The  staff  at  headquarters  is  like  a  Christian 
family.' 

"  I  have  found  by  experience  that  the  formal  pres- 


94  THE  HOSPITAL  FARM  AND   CHAPEL 

entation  of  Gospel  truth  once  a  week  by  an  offi 
cer  in  chaplain's  uniform,  or  in  any  other,  does 
not  amount  to  much,  unless  faithfully  followed  up 
by  personal  effort  and  the  social  prayer-meeting. 
The  religion  of  our  Saviour,  presented  in  the  spirit 
of  our  Saviour,  rarely  fails  to  move  even  the  rough 
soldier.  I  have  found  a  most  efficient  colaborer 
in  Chaplain  Billingsly,  also  in  Chaplain  Raymond." 


CHAPTER  VII 

PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND  FALLS 

OOON  after  the  close  of  the  war  Edward 
*»-J  accepted  a  call  to  the  little  church  at  High 
land  Falls,  about  a  mile  below  West  Point.  This 
was  his  only  charge,  and  here  he  spent  nine  happy, 
useful  years.  His  first  impressions  of  the  church 
and  congregation  may  be  gathered  from  the  fol 
lowing  letter. 

"  I  f9und  myself  in  a  true  orthodox  Presbyterian 
church,  for  although  the  thermometer  stood  far 
below  zero  and  the  roads  were  snowy  and  un 
broken,  still  the  number  of  ladies  present  far  ex 
ceeded  that  of  the  gentlemen.  I  regarded  this  fact 
as  a  good  omen,  for  if  a  pastor  can  depend  upon 
a  few  strong-hearted  women  (not  strong-minded 
in  the  cant  sense  of  the  phrase),  he  has  only  to  go 
forward  prudently  to  certain  success.  Summing 
up  the  entire  congregation,  small  and  great,  it 
nearly  made  that  number  so  well  known,  alas,  in 
country  churches,  which  is  appropriately  termed 
'  a  handful.' 

"  These  good  people  were  thinly  scattered  over 


96  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS 

a  plain  little  audience  room  that  would  seat  com 
fortably  one  hundred  and  twenty.  The  church 
was  bitter  cold,  and  the  situation  of  the  pulpit,  be 
tween  the  two  doors,  seemed  designed  to  chill 
anything  like  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  the 
speaker.  The  construction  of  the  building  bore 
evidence  that  some  architect  of  the  olden  time  de 
termined  to  achieve  celebrity,  in  that  he  placed  its 
back  toward  the  street,  and  faced  it  toward  noth 
ing  in  particular.  This,  with  minor  eccentricities, 
really  entitled  the  edifice  to  the  antiquarian's  atten 
tion.  But  I  intend  not  a  disrespectful  word  against 
the  little  church,  for  precious  souls  have  been  gath 
ered  there  and  trained  for  heaven." 

It  was  in  February  that  Edward  received  a 
unanimous  call  to  this  church,  and  from  that  time 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  work  of  collecting  funds 
for  the  erection  of  a  new  building.  The  majority 
of  the  people  were  not  wealthy  and  many  of  them 
were  very  poor,  but  they  did  all  they  possibly 
could,  many  giving  at  the  cost  of  great  personal 
sacrifice.  The  brunt  of  the  enterprise,  however, 
necessarily  fell  upon  my  brother.  About  this 
time  he  began  giving  lectures  on  his  experiences 
in  the  Civil  War,  often  travelling  many  miles  to 
deliver  them,  going  wherever  there  was  a  chance 
to  make  money  and  so  help  forward  his  cherished 
object.  He  also  obtained  large  sums  from  wealthy 


PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS  97 

city  churches  and  from  friends,  through  personal 
solicitation. 

At  the  end  of  two  years  Edward  and  his  co- 
workers  felt  justified  in  laying  the  corner-stone  of 
the  new  church.  Here  is  his  description  of  the 
ceremony. 

"  Patient  effort  seldom  fails  of  its  reward,  and 
the  day  we  had  long  toiled  and  prayed  for,  when 
we  could  lay  the  corner-stone  of  our  new  church, 
at  length  arrived.  The  i6th  of  September  dawned, 
cloudy  and  dubious,  like  the  commencement  of 
the  enterprise.  The  morning  hours  brought  dis 
appointment  and  heavy  rain,  as  the  two  long  years 
of  work  and  waiting  had  brought  many  discour 
agements.  Rev.  Dr.  William  Adams  of  New  York, 
who  was  to  have  made  the  address,  was  unavoid 
ably  detained ;  and  the  skies  frowned  so  darkly  it 
was  thought  best  to  defer  the  ceremony.  But 
before  the  hour  appointed  there  was  a  general 
brightening  up.  The  clouds  broke  away  and  van 
ished  over  Crow  Nest  and  the  adjoining  mountains. 
The  sun  smiled  out  in  irresistible  invitation  and 
the  people  gathered  in  such  numbers  that  it  was 
thought  best  to  go  forward  with  the  ceremony. 
This  we  were  most  anxious  to  do,  as  the  North 
River  Presbytery  had  honored  our  church  as  the 
place  of  its  Fall  meeting,  and  most  of  its  members 
could  upon  this  day  be  present  with  us. 

7 


98  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND  FALLS 

"  As  the  shadows  were  lengthening  eastward, 
we  gathered  among  the  evergreens  that  surround 
the  solid  foundation  of  the  new  edifice.  It  was 
just  such  a  gathering  as  we  love  to  see  at  a  church 
—  representatives  from  every  age  and  class  in  the 
community.  Little  barefooted  urchins  climbed 
up  into  the  cedars  and  looked  on  with  wondering 
eyes.  All  right !  the  church  is  as  truly  for  them 
as  for  the  President,  should  he  honor  us  with  a 
visit.  In  a  huge  block  of  granite  at  the  northeast 
corner  of  the  building  a  receptacle  had  been  cut. 
Around  this  we  gathered.  The  Hon.  John  Bige- 
low,  our  former  Minister  to  France,  commenced 
the  simple  ceremony  with  a  very  happy  address. 
In  simple  periods  of  classic  beauty  he  spoke  of 
church  edifices  as  the  highest  and  most  disinter 
ested  expressions  of  the  benevolence  and  culture 
of  a  community;  and  in  words  that  were  good 
omens  of  the  future  he  dwelt  upon  the  beneficent 
influences  flowing  therefrom.  The  Pastor  next 
came  forward,  and  stated  that  a  copy  of  the 
Scriptures  only,  as  published  by  the  American 
Bible  Society,  would  be  deposited  in  the  stone. 
In  this  solemn  and  emblematic  act  we  wished  to 
leave  out  everything  that  would  take  from  the  sim 
plicity  and  force  of  the  figure.  God's  Word  alone 
in  its  purity  should  underlie  the  material  structure, 
and  so  we  hoped  His  Word  alone,  unmixed  and 


PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS  99 

undistorted  by  human  opinions,  would  be  the 
foundation  of  the  spiritual  church  that  should  be 
built  there  in  coming  years.  Therefore  no  papers, 
coins,  or  records  of  any  kind,  were  placed  in  the 
scaled  box  with  the  Bible.  If  after  the  lapse  of 
centuries  this  solid  wall  were  taken  down,  this  sol 
itary  Bible,  unmarred  by  pen  or  pencil,  will  be  a 
clearer  record  than  long  and  formal  documents,  of 
a  church  that  sought  to  honor  God,  and  not  man, 
and  to  keep  His  name  before  the  people,  and  not 
that  of  some  human  instrument.  With  the  usual 
words  the  massy  block  of  granite  was  lowered  to 
its  place,  and,  humanly  speaking,  generations  will 
pass  away  before  these  leaves  again  are  turned. 

"  The  Rev.  Dr.  Wheeler  of  Poughkeepsie,  who 
kindly  offered  to  act  in  Dr.  Adams's  place, 
spoke  in  a  vein  of  strong  original  eloquence 
which  chained  the  attention  of  all  for  a  brief  time. 
As  an  impromptu  effort  it  was  singularly  appro 
priate  and  hope-inspiring.  He  closed  with  a 
prayer,  in  the  fervor  of  which  a  lady  said  that  she 
could  almost  see  the  walls  and  spire  rising  to 
beautiful  and  entire  completion.  Rev.  Mr.  Teal 
of  Cornwall  pronounced  the  benediction,  and  thus 
closed  the  ceremony. 

"  We  are  building  of  the  blue  granite  found  in 
abundance  upon  the  ground.  The  walls  rise  from 
the  rocky  foundation  in  massive  thickness  of  plain, 


100  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS 

hammer-dressed  stone,  and  thus  are  in  keeping  with 
the  rugged  mountain  scenery.  Time  will  rather 
strengthen  the  work  than  weaken  it.  We  build 
from  the  rock  with  the  rock,  and  trust  that  the 
great  Spiritual  Rock  will  underlie  it  all. 

"  It  will  cost  us  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  com 
plete  the  church,  and  of  this  sum  we  have  on 
hand,  or  promised,  nearly  half.  The  building  is 
under  contract  to  be  finished  the  first  of  June  next, 
and  whatever  indebtedness  there  exists  will  be 
provided  for  by  a  mortgage.  The  ladies  of  the 
church  and  the  Sabbath-school  children  have 
pledged  themselves  by  fairs  and  concerts  to  pro 
vide  for  the  interest  of  the  debt  until  the  principal 
is  paid.  The  people  are  proving  that  they  are  in 
earnest  by  their  deeds.  By  their  hearty  sympathy 
and  cooperation,  Mr.  Cozzens,  the  proprietor  of 
the  hotel,  and  his  lady  have  greatly  contributed 
to  our  success. 

"  The  guests  of  the  house  have  been  very  liberal 
and  attentive,  and  show  an  increasing  interest  in 
the  enterprise.  At  a  time  of  hesitancy  and  doubt 
a  generous  gift  of  five  hundred  dollars,  from  C.  K. 
Garrison,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  soon  after  followed 
by  five  hundred  dollars  more  from  Richard 
Schell,  Esq.,  enabled  us  to  go  forward  with  hope 
and  confidence.  Mr.  Garrison  is  a  native  of  our 
region,  and  happy  would  it  be  for  the  country  if, 


PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  IOI 

following  his  example,  those  who  have  won  wealth 
and  distinction  abroad  would  return  and  enrich 
their  birthplace  by  such  noble  proofs  of  their 
benevolence.  Monuments  of  this  kind  perpetuate 
one's  name  better  than  tombstones.  Among  the 
summer  worshippers  at  our  little  church  under 
the  trees,  we  have  been  glad  to  recognize  so  long 
the  kindly  face  of  Rev.  J.  G.  Craighead  of  The 
Evangelist,  and  long  and  gratefully  will  our  people 
remember  his  words  from  the  pulpit  and  in  the 
social  meeting.  Rev.  Dr.  Robinson  of  Harris- 
burgh,  Pa.,  has  also  been  one  of  our  summer  resi 
dents,  and  one  that  we  shall  soon  sadly  miss." 

Four  years  longer  minister  and  people  worked 
unceasingly  in  the  interests  of  their  new  church,  my 
brother  continuing  to  give  his  lectures  wherever 
opportunity  offered.  One  delivered  at  Providence, 
Rhode  Island,  was  quoted  at  some  length  in  a 
daily  paper  of  that  city,  and  is  here  reprinted. 

"  The  Rev.  E.  P.  Roe,  of  West  Point,  lectured 
last  night  before  a  fair  audience,  at  Harrington's 
Opera  House,  under  the  auspices  of  Prescott  Post 
No.  i,  G.  A.  R.,  on  '  Secret  Service  at  the  Front; 
or  Scouting  and  Guerrillas.'  During  the  war,  said 
the  speaker,  the  northern  people  regarded  guer 
rillas  as  irresponsible  bands  of  outlaws,  living  by 
violence  and  plunder,  and  while  leaning  to  and 
assisting  the  rebels,  ready  to  murder  and  rob  with- 


102  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND  FALLS 

out  much  regard  for  either  side.  The  majority  of 
the  guerrillas  were,  no  doubt,  as  bad  as  generally 
supposed,  but  there  were  among  them  trusty  and 
intelligent  scouts,  whose  employment  was  to  trace 
out  the  position  and  movements  of  the  Union  army, 
and  who,  no  matter  how  much  robbing  and  mur 
dering  they  might  do  on  their  own  account,  never 
lost  sight  of  the  main  object  of  their  service.  The 
acuteness  of  these  scouts  and  the  various  disguises 
which  they  assumed  were  more  than  surprising. 
As  a  division  of  the  Union  army  passed  along,  an 
old  citizen  might  have  been  seen  building  a  rail 
fence.  Surely  that  ancient-looking  farmer  knows 
nothing,  the  passing  troops  would  readily  think. 
But  under  that  old  felt  hat  gleamed  a  watchful  eye 
and  listened  attentive  ears,  observing  and  hearing 
everything  worthy  of  remark.  As  soon  as  the 
army  passed,  he  throws  down  his  rails  and  slips  off 
to  the  swamp,  mounts  a  fleet  horse,  and  soon  the 
numbers,  destination  and  condition  of  the  Union 
division  are  reported  at  the  nearest  rebel  head 
quarters.  Sometimes  the  woods  on  both  sides 
of  the  marching  column  swarmed  with  prowling 
guerrillas ;  sometimes  an  affable  stranger  in  Union 
colors  would  approach,  enter  into  conversation 
with  the  weary  straggler,  gain  all  the  information 
he  could,  and  then  shoot  down  his  informant. 
They  were  very  bold  in  their  operations.  One  day 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND    FALLS  103 

an  orderly  was  riding  with  important  despatches 
far  within  the  Union  lines,  when  he  was  startled  by 
a  mounted  rebel,  who  made  his  appearance  from 
the  woodside,  and  who,  presenting  a  pistol  at  his 
breast,  demanded  his  arms  and  despatches.  After, 
as  he  imagined,  cleaning  out  the  orderly,  the  rebel 
invited  him  to  come  along  and  accept  a  little  South 
ern  hospitality.  The  scout  rode  a  little  forward, 
and  as  he  did  so,  a  quiet  grin  played  stealthfully 
over  his  furious  countenance;  a  little  pistol  was 
withdrawn  from  a  side  pocket,  the  cold  muzzle 
applied  to  the  rebel's  ear,  and  in  a  very  few  mo 
ments  the  rebel  was  disarmed  and  on  his  way  to  a 
Northern  prison.  But  the  bold  deeds  of  the  rebels 
in  scouting  through  the  Union  lines  paled  before 
the  achievements  of  General  Sharpe  and  his  bureau 
of  military  information.  The  promotion  of  this 
bureau  was  recommended  by  General  Butterfield 
to  General  Hooper,  in  1863,  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  the  numbers,  positions,  and  intentions 
of  the  enemy.  To  this  bureau  was  gathered  all 
the  information  of  the  signal  corps  and  of  the 
hundreds  of  scouts  and  spies  who  traversed  the 
rebel  army  and  country.  Trusty  and  intelligent 
men  were  picked  from  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
army  and  placed  under  command  of  General 
Sharpe.  The  first  piece  of  work  undertaken  by 
the  general  was  to  obtain  a  full  roster  of  Lee's 


104  PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS 

army  as  it  lay  on  the  Rappahannock,  the  numbers 
and  titles  of  regiments  and  the  names  of  the  corps, 
division,  brigade,  regimental  and  company  com 
manders.  He  picked  out  General  Heath's  brigade 
of  A.  P.  Hill's  corps  as  the  first  one  to  operate  on, 
and  by  daringly  scouting  in  person  through  the 
lines  of  that  brigade,  conversing  with  its  pickets, 
and  mingling  with  its  men,  he  succeeded  in  obtain 
ing  not  only  a  full  list  of  its  officers,  and  an  accu 
rate  detail  of  its  strength,  but  a  correct  description 
of  the  personal  appearance  and  habits  of  these 
officers.  After  mastering  Heath's  division  he 
picked  out  an  intelligent  soldier  whom  he  crammed 
with  all  he  knew  himself  about  the  division,  dressed 
him  up  in  a  rebel  uniform,  and  sent  him  into  another 
division  of  Hill's  corps.  Of  course  the  man  was  at 
once  apprehended  and  taken  before  a  provost  mar 
shal,  but  made  such  a  plain  statement,  giving  the 
names  of  the  officers  of  the  regiments  in  Heath's 
division,  to  which  he  claimed  to  belong,  and  describ 
ing  their  personal  appearance  and  habits  with  more 
accuracy  than  reverence,  that  he  was  dismissed, 
with  a  reprimand  for  his  want  of  respect  for  his 
superior  officers,  and  ordered  to  report  back  at  once 
to  his  regiment.  After  looking  around  him  and  as 
certaining  everything  worth  noting  with  regard  to 
the  command,  he  returned  to  General  Sharpe ;  and 
thus  the  particulars,  as  ascertained  by  every  new 


PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  105 

scout,  facilitated  the  means  of  getting  more.  At 
length  Sharpe  had  a  roster  of  the  whole  of  Lee's 
army,  and  could  tell  its  strength  at  any  time  within 
a  thousand  or  so,  that  thousand  being  the  changing 
mass  of  stragglers,  furloughed,  and  sick,  to  whom 
no  special  location  could  be  assigned.  He  could 
also  tell  the  name  of  every  officer  in  that  army, 
and  rebel  generals  of  divisions  might  have  gone  to 
him  for  information  concerning  their  own  subordi 
nates.  The  great  usefulness  of  thus  possessing  the 
precise  knowledge  of  the  strength  and  formation 
of  the  enemy's  forces  was  particularly  illustrated 
at  Gettysburg,  where  the  anxious  spirits  of  the 
Union  commanders  were  relieved  by  ascertaining 
from  General  Sharpe  that  every  brigade  but  one 
of  Lee's  army  had  been  engaged  in  the  fight,  and 
that  that  general  had  no  reserve  with  which  to 
follow  success  or  break  defeat.  Not  least  among 
the  resources  from  which  valuable  information 
was  obtained  were  the  contrabands,  whose  fidelity 
and  truthfulness  were  remarkable,  considering 
their  want  of  education,  and  consequent  lack  of 
intelligence. 

"  Amusing  and  interesting  instances  were  given 
by  the  speaker  of  the  hairbreadth  escapes  and 
reckless  daring  of  General  Sharpe's  scouts,  and  he 
concluded  an  entertaining  discourse  by  paying  a 
hearty  and  well-deserved  tribute  to  their  patriotic 


106  PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

and  fearless  devotion,  to  which  was  greatly  owing, 
in  his  opinion,  the  winning  of  some  of  our  greatest 
victories,  and  the  fortunate  issue  of  the  war  itself." 
In  1868  the  church  was  completed,  a  building 
"  whose  granite  walls  are  so  thick,  and  hard-wood 
finish  so  substantial,  that  passing  centuries  should 
add  only  the  mellowness  of  age."  Edward  would 
not  allow  his  name  deposited  in  the  corner-stone, 
as  many  wished,  but  since  his  death  a  bronze  tab 
let,  with  the  following  inscription,  has  been  placed 
in  the  vestibule. 

In  Memoriam, 
Rev.  Edward  Payson  Roe, 

Minister  of  the 
First  Presbyterian  Ch.  of  the  Highlands. 

1866-1875. 

Author,  Pastor,  Friend, 

This  Building  Stands  the  Monument  of 

His  Earnest  Labors. 

Erected : 

1868. 

After  the  completion  of  the  church  the  old  par 
sonage  was  enlarged  and  remodelled,  and  so  during 
his  pastorate  thirty  thousand  dollars  were  raised 
and  expended  in  permanent  improvements. 

While  living  at  Highland  Falls  Edward  continu 
ally  met  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  West  Point. 
A  soldier  at  one  time  was  the  leader  of  his  choir, 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  IO/ 

in  which  was  also  a  quartet  from  the  military  band. 
He  writes  as  follows  of  a  mountain  camp  at  West 
Point  which  recalled  some  of  his  own  army  life :  — 

"  About  the  middle  of  August  the  Cadet  Corps 
left  their  airy  tent  villas  on  the  plain  at  West  Point, 
and  took  up  their  tine  of  march  for  the  mountains. 
The  pioneers  had  preceded,  and  the  road  was  prac 
ticable  not  only  for  infantry,  but  for  carriages  and 
stages  laden  with  fair  ladies  from  the  hotels.  The 
selected  camping  ground,  though  rough  indeed 
compared  with  the  velvet  lawns  of  West  Point,  was 
admirably  adapted  for  the  purpose.  It  was  a 
broken,  uneven  field,  on  the  property  of  T.  Coz- 
zens,  Esq.  Here  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest  moun 
tain  scenery  the  young  soldiers  experienced,  to 
quite  an  extent,  the  realities  of  life  at  the  front, 
minus  the  element  of  danger.  But  the  mimicry 
was  almost  perfect,  and  so  suggestive  of  bygone 
days  to  an  old  campaigner,  that  I  cannot  refrain 
from  indulging  in  a  brief  description. 

"  A  wild,  romantic  drive  of  three  or  four  miles 
through  winding  valleys,  jagged  boulders  and 
ledges,  and  overshadowing  trees,  brought  us  to 
the  edge  of  the  camp-ground.  Along  the  road 
ran  the  familiar  military  telegraph,  the  wire  now 
looped  up  to  a  convenient  tree,  now  sustained  by 
the  slender  portable  pole  that  bends  but  never 
breaks  beneath  the  seemingly  gossamer  strand. 


108  PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

Just  before  reaching  the  place  we  struck  off  upon 
one  of  those  temporary  roads  that  we  were  ever 
extemporizing  in  Virginia.  First  we  saw  the  white 
tents  through  the  foliage,  then  the  gleaming  of  a 
sentry's  musket,  the  cover  of  an  ambulance,  and  in 
a  moment  more  we  were  in  the  midst  of  the  encamp 
ment,  and  the  spell  was  complete.  Through  the 
strong  laws  of  association  the  old  life  rushed  back 
again,  and  what  often  seems  a  far-away  dream  was 
as  present  and  real  as  six  years  ago.  But  apart 
from  all  its  suggestiveness  to  those  who  dwelt  in 
canvas  cities  and  engaged  in  war's  realities,  the 
scene  was  novel,  beautiful,  and  deeply  interesting. 
Here  in  the  midst  of  the  wooded  highlands  was  a 
fac-simile,  reproduced  in  miniature,  of  thousands 
of  encampments,  created  by  the  Rebellion,  in  the 
equally  wild  regions  of  the  Southern  States.  Here 
were  our  future  generals  learning  to  apply  practi 
cally  to  the  roughness  of  nature  the  principles 
and  tactics  that  might  seem  comparatively  easy  on 
paper  or  grassy  plain.  Sloping  down  to  the  right, 
the  encampment  bordered  on  Round  Pond,  a  beau 
tiful,  transparent  little  lake,  fringed  with  water-lilies, 
and  mirroring  back  the  rocks  and  foliage  of  its 
rugged  banks.  Through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Coz- 
zens  we  and  others  were  soon  skimming  its  surface 
in  an  airy  little  pleasure  boat.  A  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  the  left,  in  full  view,  with  a  descent  of  a  hundred 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  1 09 

feet,  Long  Pond  glistened  in  the  bright  August 
sun.  All  around  rose  the  green  billowy  hills  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  We  had  hardly  noted 
this  beautiful  commingling  of  wood  and  water 
before  the  stirring  notes  of  the  drum  announced 
skirmish  drill.  On  each  side  of  the  camp  a  squad 
marched  briskly  out,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  for 
est.  Soon  from  its  unseen  depths  there  came  a 
shot,  then  another,  then  several,  ending  in  a  rapid, 
scattering  fire,  and  I  was  back  again  on  the  skir 
mish  line  in  Virginia.  By  this  time  the  other  de 
tachment  had  reached  position,  and  were  '  popping' 
away  in  the  old  familiar  style.  The  hills  caught  up 
the  reports  and  echoed  them  down  again  multiplied 
a  hundredfold. 

"  Rock,  glen,  and  cavern  paid  them  back ; 
To  many  mingled  sounds  at  once, 
The  awakened  mountain  gave  response  ;  " 

and  these  regions  of  silvan  peace  and  solitude  were 
disturbed  as  they  never  had  been  since  the  days 
when  Washington  made  West  Point  his  military 
base,  and  Fort  Putnam  was  the  chief  Highland 
stronghold. 

"  On  a  high  eminence  to  the  right  fluttered  a 
signal  flag.  I  shall  never  forget  the  last  time  that 
my  special  attention  was  called  to  that  very  signifi 
cant  object.  It  was  on  a  bold  ledge  of  the  Blue 


110  PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

Ridge  west  of  Culpepper,  Va.  We  were  out  on 
picket,  lounging  away  a  long  bright  October  after 
noon,  when  in  the  far  distance  a  white  flutter  like 
that  of  a  lady's  handkerchief  caught  the  wary  eye 
of  the  colonel.  Listlessness  vanished.  All  glasses 
were  out,  but  practised  eyes  discovered,  not  a  token 
of  ladies'  favor,  but  a  signal  of  stern  war.  Lee  was 
turning  our  right  flank,  and  then  followed  the 
famous  race  for  Centreville  heights. 

"  But  the  sun  had  sunk  behind  a  blue  Highland, 
and  the  tap  of  the  drum  announcing  parade  re 
called  from  reminiscences  of  the  past.  Creaking, 
groaning,  crunching  up  the  rough  road  came  stages, 
carriages,  and  wagons  of  all  descriptions  laden  with 
fair  ladies,  who  in  bright  summer  costumes  seemed 
airy  indeed,  but  from  the  looks  of  the  jaded  horses, 
were  anything  but  thistle-downs.  The  wild  moun 
tain  camp  was  soon  brilliant  with  Fifth  Avenue 
toilets.  There  was  a  general  '  presenting  of  arms,' 
though  not  with  belligerent  aspect,  and  it  required 
no  astrologer  to  predict  a  conjunction  of  Mars 
and  Venus.  Old  fogy  that  I  was,  recalling  the 
days  of  our  humdrum  soldiering  long  and  well 
gone  by,  here  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant 
active  campaign,  where  wounds  were  given  and 
received,  human  hearts  pierced  to  the  very  cir 
cumference  —  perhaps  deeper  sometimes.  Yon 
tall,  soldierly  figure  of  the  commandant  is  a  sec- 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  III 

ondary  one  here.  Cupid  is  the  field  marshal  of 
the  day.  With  the  near  approach  of  night  there 
was  a  suspension  of  hostilities.  The  fair  invaders 
gradually  drew  off  their  attacking  forces,  and  soon 
were  lost  in  the  deeper  shadows  that  lay  at  the 
mountain  base.  The  next  morning  at  8  A.  M., 
the  Cadet  Corps  returned  to  their  encampment  on 
the  plain  at  West  Point." 

My  brother's  attitude  toward  West  Point  is 
clearly  shown  in  the  following  vigorous  defence 
of  the  National  Academy  which  was  published  in 
The  Evangelist. 

"The  Military  Academy  here  has  lately  had  an 
unenviable  degree  of  notoriety  and  of  severe  criti 
cism.  Some  go  so  far  as  to  advise  the  breaking 
up  of  the  entire  institution.  No  one  so  thought 
when  the  gallant  Reynolds  at  the  cost  of  his  life 
made  such  vigorous  battle  at  Gettysburg  as  to 
check  Lee,  and  secure  to  us  a  favourable  position 
for  fighting  out  the  decisive  conflict  of  the  war. 
No  one  so  advised  when  a  graduate  of  West  Point 
announced  the  surrender  of  Vicksburg;  when  an 
other  marched  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea;  and  an 
other  swept  down  the  Shenandoah  Valley  like  a 
whirlwind.  During  our  national  struggle  for  life, 
trained  soldiers  did  for  us  what  educated  lawyers, 
physicians,  clergymen,  and  statesmen  do  for  a  com 
munity  at  all  times.  Next  to  the  courage  and  pa- 


112  PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

triotism  of  the  people,  we  have  to  thank  the  skill 
of  West  Point,  that  we  are  One  Nation  to-day. 

There  are  those  who  advocate  State  military 
schools,  in  other  words  that  we  have  an  army 
officered  by  men  of  local  interests  and  feelings. 
We  shall  then  have  generals  to  whom  a  single 
State  is  more  than  the  whole  Union.  We  shall 
have  patriots  educated  by  the  New  York  ring,  and 
the  champions  of  Tammany  Hall.  No,  the  sol 
diers  and  sailors  of  the  United  States  —  as  they 
are  in  the  service  of  the  whole  country  —  should 
be  educated  by  the  whole  country,  and  upon  their 
maps  State  boundaries  should  be  blotted  out. 

"  Others  advise,  instead  of  this  National  Acad 
emy,  that  a  course  of  military  instruction  be  added 
to  our  colleges.  But  in  this  way  students  would 
only  pick  up  a  smattering  of  military  science, 
in  connection  with  a  dozen  other  sciences,  that 
would  be  quite  useless  in  time  of  war.  If  we 
are  to  be  fully  armed  against  attack,  we  need 
men  thoroughly  educated  in  military  science  by 
the  Nation,  and  therefore  bound  by  every  instinct 
of  honor,  gratitude,  and  association  to  defend 
her  in  her  hour  of  peril. 

"  Does  West  Point  now  furnish  such  an  educa 
tion  and  such  men?  Yes,  as  truly  as  it  ever  has 
done ;  and  I  think  it  could  be  shown  that  it  was 
never  in  better  condition  than  it  is  this  day.  But 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  113 

what  does  the  recent  '  outrage '  indicate,  and  what 
the  'persecution  of  Cadet  Smith?'  Living  near 
the  institution,  and  yet  having  no  connection  with 
it  —  nothing  to  gain  or  lose  —  I  can  form  as  cor 
rect  and  unprejudiced  an  opinion  as  those  who 
base  theirs  upon  partial,  imperfect  reports  of  iso 
lated  incidents.  One  needs  but  to  visit  the  Point 
daily,  or  nightly,  in  order  to  see  that  perfect  dis 
cipline  is  maintained.  The  '  outrage  '  referred  to 
was  the  expelling  of  three  students  by  the  first 
class.  This  action  no  one  defends.  From  no 
source  have  I  heard  it  so  severely  condemned  as 
by  the  officers  themselves.  If  it  could  have  been 
foreseen  it  would  have  been  prevented.  In  the 
most  quiet  communities  there  are  sudden  out 
breaks  of  passion  and  violence.  Is  the  community 
where  such  an  event  occurs,  and  which  goes  on  its 
orderly  way  the  remaining  three  hundred  and 
sixty-four  days  of  the  year,  to  be  called  '  law 
less?'  Is  the  hasty,  passionate  act  of  a  few, 
wrong  as  it  may  be,  to  give  character  to  all? 
Moreover,  in  judging  acts  we  should  consider 
the  motives.  In  this  case  they  throw  much  light  on 
the  action.  The  sentiment  of  the  corps  is  one  of 
intense  disgust  at  the  vice  of  lying.  A  cadet  can 
not  commit  a  more  serious  offence  against  the  re 
ceived  code  of  honor.  The  parties  expelled  were 
believed  to  have  been  guilty  of  this  offence,  and 

8 


114  PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

their  dismissal  was  a  sudden  and  lawless  expres 
sion  of  the  general  anger  and  disgust.  The  action 
was  contrary  to  the  character  of  a  soldier  —  the 
man  of  discipline  and  iron  rules.  But  was  it  con 
trary  to  the  character  of  frank,  impulsive  youth  ? 
Are  those  who  have  scarcely  reached  their  major 
ity  to  be  judged  in  the  same  light  as  cool,  grey- 
bearded  veterans?  I  do  not  see  how  the  officers 
are  to  blame  because  they  could  not  foresee  the 
trouble.  Is  a  careful  housekeeper  '  reckless '  be 
cause  a  kerosene  lamp  explodes?  Do  you  say 
she  ought  to  use  non-explosive  material?  Then 
you  must  send  sexagenarians  to  West  Point  in 
stead  of  boys. 

"  The  same  principle  applies  to  the  '  persecu 
tion.'  Critical  editors,  and  advanced  politicians 
like  Ben.  Butler,  require  of  a  class  of  young  men 
gathered  from  every  part  of  the  land  what  they 
could  scarcely  obtain  from  the  reformers  of  New 
England  as  a  body.  There  is  no  use  in  ignoring 
the  general  and  widespread  prejudice  of  race. 
Many  who  grieve  most  at  the  wrongs  of  the  col 
ored  people  still  feel  that  instinctive  drawing  back 
from  social  contact.  Do  those  that  condemn  the 
young  men  most  severely  introduce  the  colored 
element  largely  into  their  own  social  circles?  If 
not,  then  they  should  not  be  so  ready  to  throw 
stones.  Colored  cadets  sent  to  West  Point  must 


PASTORATE  AT  HIGHLAND   FALLS  1 15 

be  treated  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  the  others. 
The  law  forms  them  all  into  a  social  community 
with  equal  rights.  Is  it  to  be  expected  that  the 
utmost  cordiality  should  be  shown  by  hot-blooded, 
unformed,  and  often  unwise  youth,  having  in 
somewhat  intenser  form  the  same  prejudices 
with  those  who  condemn  them?  They  have 
probably  acted  in  the  matter  very  much  as  the 
sons  of  the  editors  and  ministers  and  reformers, 
who  have  been  so  severe  upon  them,  would  have 
acted  in  like  circumstances.  That  happy  day 
when  the  brotherhood  of  the  race  shall  be  hon 
estly  and  lovingly  acknowledged  I  fear  is  yet  far 
distant,  nor  is  it  to  be  hastened  by  attempting  to 
force  a  social  intercourse  against  which  there  may 
be  a  natural  aversion.  As  far  as  the  officers  are 
concerned,  I  believe  that  they  have  tried  to  treat 
young  Smith  with  strict  impartiality,  and  to  give 
him  every  opportunity.  The  affairs  of  the  Acad 
emy  seem  to  go  forward  like  clock-work.  Con 
sidering  the  sore  and  excited  state  of  mind  among 
the  cadets,  their  order  and  subordination  have 
been  remarkable.  Of  course  two  hundred  and 
fifty  young  men  of  the  widest  difference  of  char- 
aracter,  brought  together  from  every  diversity  of 
life,  could  not  be  expected  to  act  like  nicely 
adjusted  machines;  but  with  the  exception  of 
those  two  affairs,  what  has  there  been  to  justify 


Il6  PASTORATE  AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS 

the  charges  of  '  lawlessness '  or  '  looseness  of 
discipline?' 

"  In  view  of  its  services,  it  is  strange  that  any 
one  should  speak  seriously  of  breaking  up  West 
Point.  It  has  paid  back  to  the  nation  all  that  has 
been  spent  upon  it  a  hundredfold. 

"  P.  S.  —  May  I  add  a  word  in  regard  to  the 
commandant  of  this  post,  who  is  the  officer  who 
has  special  care  of  the  students  in  the  Academy. 
Political  attacks  do  not  spare  anybody,  and  during 
the  recent  troubles  slurs  have  been  thrown  out 
even  against  General  Upton.  It  has  been  in 
timated  that  fear  of  the  authorities  at  Washington 
has  made  him  over-lenient  and  slack  in  his  dis 
cipline  toward  the  first  class,  as  President  Grant 
and  others  high  in  power  have  sons  in  this  class. 

"  These  disparaging  remarks  are  made  either  by 
those  who  know  nothing  of  General  Upton's  char 
acter  and  antecedents,  or  else  they  are  the  gross 
est  slanders.  Search  the  army  through  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to  find  a  man  more  utterly 
devoid  of  the  spirit  that  truckles  to  power.  Nature 
never  put  into  his  composition  the  least  spice  of 
obsequiousness,  and  one  has  only  to  look  into  the 
man's  face  and  hear  him  speak  five  words  in  order 
to  know  it.  He  belongs  to  that  class  of  men  who 
pay  more  attention  to  the  poor  and  humble  than 
to  the  high  and  haughty. 


PASTORATE   AT   HIGHLAND   FALLS  I  I/ 

"  I  think  my  testimony  in  this  matter  is  worth 
something.  During  nearly  four  years  of  life  in  the 
army,  and  five  years'  residence  within  one  mile  of 
the  West  Point  Academy,  I  have  met  with  a  great 
many  officers  of  the  volunteer  and  regular  ser 
vice,  and  never  has  a  man  more  thoroughly  im 
pressed  me  with  the  fact  that  he  was  a  gentleman, 
and  conscientious  in  duty  even  to  the  slightest 
particular,  than  General  Upton.  Moreover,  he  is 
an  enthusiast  in  his  profession,  and  therefore  suc 
cessful.  He  is  the  author  of  the  Infantry  Tactics 
now  in  use  in  our  army,  and  said  to  be  the  finest 
in  the  world.  From  frequent  intercourse  with  the 
Point,  I  know  that  he  maintains  a  daily  discipline 
among  the  cadets  as  nearly  perfect  as  anything  of 
the  kind  can  be.  It  is  my  belief  that  investigation 
of  the  recent  troubles  will  show  that  the  institution 
was  never  better  officered  than  at  present. 

"  Moreover,  General  Upton  is  a  sincere  Chris 
tian —  one  that  lives  up  to  his  profession.  His 
influence  in  this  respect  is  most  marked  and  happy 
upon  the  corps.  We  cannot  overestimate  the 
importance  of  the  fact  that  the  officer  directly  in 
charge  of  the  young  men  at  the  Point  is  guided  in 
all  respects,  not  only  by  strict  military  honor  and 
duty,  but  by  the  highest  Christian  principle." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

RESIGNATION  FROM  THE  MINISTRY 

WHILE  at  Highland  Falls  Edward  wrote  his 
first  novel,  "  Barriers  Burned  Away."  He 
had  told  of  his  plan  for  a  story  to  be  based  upon 
the  scenes  he  had  witnessed  among  the  ruins  of 
the  great  Chicago  fire,  and  when  I  received  a 
letter  from  him  the  following  winter  asking  me  to 
make  him  a  visit  as  soon  as  possible,  I  suspected 
that  he  wanted  my  opinion  of  what  he  had  written. 
And  I  was  not  disappointed,  for  on  the  evening 
after  my  arrival  he  read  to  me  a  number  of  chap 
ters,  and  we  talked  over  his  plan  for  the  story  until 
after  midnight,  he  going  over  the  outlines  that  he 
then  had  in  mind,  though  he  afterward  made  some 
changes.  The  next  day  he  called  upon  Dr.  Field, 
editor  of  The  Evangelist,  and  owing  to  his  kind 
encouragement  the  visit  was  repeated,  the  result 
being  that  the  story  was  finally  accepted  for  serial 
publication  in  that  paper. 

From  that  time  on,  my  brother  read  to  me 
every  one  of  his  stories  in  manuscript,  and  I  en 
joyed  them  the  more  from  the  fact  that  in  every 


RESIGNATION  FROM  THE  MINISTRY          1 19 

case  I  recognized  the  originals  from  which  he  had 
drawn  his  scenes  and  characters,  idealized  as  they 
were. 

In  1874  his  health  had  become  so  much  im 
paired  by  overwork  that  his  physician  strongly 
urged  him  to  give  up  either  writing  or  preaching. 
After  giving  the  matter  serious  consideration  and 
consulting  with  friends  whose  advice  he  valued, 
my  brother  reluctantly  decided  to  retire  from  the 
ministry.  How  his  people  parted  with  him  is  told 
in  a  letter  to  The  Evangelist,  whose  readers  had 
followed  with  so  much  interest  and  substantial  aid 
my  brother's  efforts  to  build  a  new  church. 

"  I  have  been  very  much  surprised.  Last  Sab 
bath,  the  7th  of  March,  was  my  birthday.  On  the 
6th  I  sat  quietly  in  my  study  until  the  sun  was 
behind  the  mountains,  and  then  was  sent  out  of 
the  house  on  false  pretences.  The  young  people 
of  the  church  were  getting  up  an  entertainment, 
and  suddenly  took  it  into  their  heads  that  they 
needed  my  assistance.  There  seemed  many  de 
lays,  but  we  at  last  got  through.  Then  I  received 
a  startling  message  that  a  neighbor  wished  to  see 
me  immediately.  Surmising  sudden  illness  or 
trouble,  I  did  not  go  home,  but  started  off  in  great 
haste.  I  found  not  sickness,  but  mystery,  at  this 
neighbor's,  which  I  could  not  fathom.  My  friend 
and  his  wife  were  unusually  entertaining  and  I 


120         RESIGNATION  FROM  THE  MINISTRY 

could  not  get  away,  though  I  knew  I  was  keeping 
tea  waiting  at  home.  Finally  there  came  another 
mysterious  message — 'Two  gentlemen  and  two 
ladies  wished  to  see  me  at  the  parsonage.'  '  O,  I 
understand  now/  I  thought.  '  It  is  a  wedding; 
but  they  are  managing  it  rather  oddly.' 

"  But  imagine  my  surprise  when  I  opened  the 
door,  and  found  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  peo 
ple  present.  Well,  to  be  brief,  they  just  over 
whelmed  us  with  kindness.  They  gave  us  fine 
music,  and  provided  a  supper  for  five  hundred  in 
stead  of  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

"  Mrs.  Roe  thought  that  she  was  in  the  secret ; 
but  they  surprised  her  also  by  presenting,  with  cor 
dial  words,  a  handsome  sum  of  money  at  the  close 
of  the  evening. 

"  My  resignation  has  not  yet  been  accepted,  but 
we  expect  that  the  pastoral  relation  will  be  dis 
solved  at  the  next  meeting  of  Presbytery.  As 
soon  as  spring  comes  in  reality,  and  the  embargo 
of  ice  and  snow  is  over,  we  must  be  upon  the 
wing;  and  this  spontaneous  and  hearty  proof  of 
the  friendliness  of  my  people  was  very  grateful  to 
me.  During  the  nine  years  of  my  pastorate  they 
have  been  called  to  pass  through  many  trying  and 
difficult  times.  They  have  often  been  asked  to 
give  beyond  their  means,  and  have  often  done  so. 
With  the  very  limited  amount  of  wealth  in  the 


RESIGNATION  FROM  THE   MINISTRY          121 

congregation,  even  the  generous  aid  received  from 
abroad  and  from  visitors  could  not  prevent  the 
effort  to  erect  a  new  church  and  parsonage  from 
being  an  exceedingly  heavy  burden,  involving  per 
plexing  and  vexatious  questions.  When  I  remem 
ber  how  patiently  they  have  borne  these  burdens, 
how  hard  many  have  worked,  and  how  many  in 
stances  of  genuine  self-denial  there  have  been,  I 
feel  that  too  much  cannot  be  said  in  their  praise. 
It  is  my  hope  and  my  belief  that  they  will  deal 
as  kindly  with  my  successor  as  they  have  with 
me." 

Dr.  Edgar  A.  Mearns  of  the  United  States  army 
was  one  of  my  brother's  devoted  friends  who 
knew  him  intimately  during  the  years  of  his  min 
istry.  In  1888,  from  Fort  Snelling,  Minn.,  he 
writes  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  sad  news  of  the  death  of  Rev.  E.  P.  Roe, 
at  Cornwall-on-Hudson,  reached  me  to-day,  and 
filled  my  heart  with  sadness.  During  the  long 
years  of  my  sojourn  upon  the  western  frontier,  I 
have  looked  forward  with  unspeakable  pleasure  to 
the  time  when  I  could  grasp  the  hand  of  this  true 
friend,  and  walk  and  talk  with  him,  and  enjoy 
once  more  the  society  of  his  dear  family.  I  had 
planned  a  leave  of  absence  from  my  station  in  the 
desert-wilderness  of  Arizona  for  last  spring,  in  re- 
sp'onse  to  his  urgent  invitations ;  but  other  duties 


122          RESIGNATION  FROM   THE   MINISTRY 

awaited  me,  and  I  was  not  permitted  to  realize  the 
fulfilment  of  this  ardent  desire.  We  were  to  walk 
through  the  woodlands,  drive  over  the  mountains, 
and  sail  on  our  native  Hudson.  I  saw  in  mental 
vision  the  very  rock  under  which  we  used  to  poke 
at  the  woodchucks  with  a  stick,  and  on  which  we 
gathered  the  walking  fern,  and  seemed  once  more 
to  hear  him  discoursing  of  small  fruits  in  his  de 
lightful  garden,  or  reading  to  the  family  circle 
from  his  latest  manuscripts.  In  the  West  many 
hearts  have  been  pierced  by  this  sorrow,  for  he 
made  friends  wherever  he  went. 

"  To  write  a  word  of  the  lost  friend,  who  has 
been  a  very  pillar  of  support  in  times  of  struggle 
or  affliction,  will  perhaps  relieve  a  pain  at  the 
heart  which  is  hard  to  bear.  It  is  not  as  an  author, 
justly  celebrated,  that  I  must  speak  of  him,  but  of 
the  private  life  of  one  who  combined  every  attri 
bute  of  mind  and  heart  to  endear  him  to  his 
friends.  I  have  known  him  as  a  pastor,  laboring 
assiduously  among  the  members  of  his  flock,  dis 
pensing  liberal  charity  among  the  poor,  and  light 
ening  everybody's  burden.  He  was  a  rock  to  lay 
hold  of  when  other  friendships  were  borne  away 
by  the  cruel  winds  of  adversity.  Then  it  was  that 
the  genial  warmth  of  his  smile,  the  kindly  hand- 
pressure,  and  the  cheerful  encouragement  of  his 
voice  fettered  sore  hearts  to  his. 


RESIGNATION   FROM  THE  MINISTRY          123 

"  I  have  seen  him  as  a  hero,  struggling  in  the 
water  and  broken  ice,  bearing  in  his  arms  the 
bodies  of  children  for  whom  he  risked  his  life. 
He  had  heard  a  cry  for  help,  and  that  alone  was 
enough  to  enlist  the  sympathy  and  secure  the 
highest  sacrifice  of  which  our  nature  is  capable. 
Then,  paying  no  heed  to  personal  sickness  and  in 
jury,  he  strove  to  comfort  the  bereaved  hearts  of 
mothers,  whose  boys  were  drowned,  perhaps  by 
exposure  laying  the  seeds  of  the  disease  which 
recently  caused  his  death. 

"  His  zealous  devotion  to  his  calling,  together 
with  exposure  to  various  hardships  encountered 
on  frequent  lecturing  tours  made  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  funds  for  the  erection  of  a  suitable 
church  for  his  congregation,  made  such  inroads 
into  his  naturally  vigorous  constitution  that,  having 
accomplished  his  task,  he  was  compelled  to  resign 
his  charge  as  pastor,  after  about  nine  years  of 
faithful  service.  The  beautiful  stone  Presbyterian 
church  at  Highland  Falls  is  a  monument  to  his 
untiring  efforts." 


CHAPTER  IX 

FRUIT   CULTURE   AND   LITERARY   WORK 

A  FTER  my  brother's  resignation  from  the  min- 
•**•  istry,  he  bought  a  plain,  old-fashioned  house 
with  considerable  ground  about  it,  at  Cornwall-on- 
the-Hudson,  two  miles  distant  from  his  childhood 
home,  and  went  there  to  live. 

It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  Edward 
could  not  depend  upon  his  literary  work  alone  for 
the  support  of  his  growing  family.  He  had  for 
some  years  taken  much  interest  in  the  cultivation 
of  small  fruits,  and  after  the  removal  to  Cornwall 
he  carried  on  this  work  upon  a  larger  scale,  finding 
it  profitable  as  well  as  interesting. 

I  remember  the  piles  of  letters  that  came  to  him 
each  day  for  several  years  containing  orders  for 
plants.  Although  in  general  not  a  methodical 
man,  yet  the  painstaking  care  which  he  was  known 
to  exercise  in  keeping  the  many  varieties  distinct 
enabled  his  customers  to  rely  implicitly  upon  his 
statements  as  to  the  kind  and  value  of  the  plants 
ordered.  He  often  employed  many  men  and  boys 
on  his  place,  but  always  engaged  them  with  the 


FRUIT  CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK      12$ 

understanding  that  if  through  carelessness  the 
varieties  of  plants  became  mixed  the  offender  was 
to  be  dismissed  at  once,  and  a  few  examples  soon 
taught  his  assistants  that  he  meant  what  he  said. 
But  when  they  were  faithful  to  their  duty,  they 
invariably  found  him  considerate  and  kind. 

The  strawberry  was  Edward's  favorite  among 
the  small  fruits,  and  he  made  many  experiments 
with  new  varieties.  When  the  vines  were  bearing, 
sometimes  as  many  as  forty  bushels  of  berries  were 
picked  in  a  single  day.  Some  of  them  were  of 
mammoth  size.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  we 
took  from  a  basket  four  berries  which  filled  to  the 
brim  a  large  coffee-cup,  and  notwithstanding  their 
enormous  size  they  were  solid  and  sweet.  During 
this  period  he  wrote  the  articles  on  "  Success  with 
Small  Fruits,"  published  in  Scribbler's  Magazine. 

Currants  came  next  in  his  favor.  Writing  of 
them  he  says:  "Let  me  recommend  the  currant 
cure.  If  any  one  is  languid,  depressed  in  spirits, 
inclined  to  headaches,  and  generally  '  out  of  sorts,' 
let  him  finish  his  breakfast  daily  for  a  month  with 
a  dish  of  freshly  picked  currants.  He  will  soon 
doubt  his  own  identity,  and  may  even  think  that 
he  is  becoming  a  good  man.  In  brief,  the  truth  of 
the  ancient  pun  will  be  verified,  '  That  the  power 
to  live  a  good  life  depends  largely  upon  the  liver! 
Let  it  be  taught  at  the  theological  seminaries  that 


126      FRUIT   CULTURE  AND   LITERARY   WORK 

the  currant  is  a  means  of  grace.  It  is  a  corrective, 
and  that  is  what  average  humanity  most  needs." 

Mr.  Charles  Downing  of  Newburgh,  a  noted 
horticulturist,  was  Edward's  valued  friend.  He 
was  especially  successful  in  fruit  culture,  and  it  was 
his  custom  to  forward  to  my  brother  for  trial  novel 
ties  sent  to  him  from  every  part  of  the  country. 
Then  on  pleasant  summer  afternoons  the  old  gen 
tleman  would  visit  my  brother,  and,  side  by  side, 
they  would  compare  the  much-heralded  strangers 
with  the  standard  varieties.  Often  forty  or  fifty 
kinds  were  bearing  under  precisely  the  same  con 
ditions.  The  two  lovers  of  Nature  thus  gained 
knowledge  of  many  of  her  secrets. 

Edward's  coming  to  live  in  Cornwall  was  a  source 
of  great  pleasure  to  our  father,  who,  although  then 
past  eighty  years  of  age,  was  still  vigorous,  and  as 
full  of  enthusiasm  for  his  garden  as  when  he  first 
moved  to  the  country.  Often  on  summer  morn 
ings,  before  the  sun  was  fairly  above  the  eastern 
mountains,  father  would  drive  over  to  my  brother's, 
taking  in  his  phaeton  a  basket  of  fruit  or  vege 
tables  that  he  believed  were  earlier  than  any  in  my 
brother's  garden.  These  he  would  leave  at  the 
front  door  for  Edward  to  discover  when  he  came 
downstairs,  and  return  in  time  for  our  breakfast. 
He  would  laugh  with  the  keenest  enjoyment  if  he 
found  that  his  beans  or  sweet  corn  had  ripened 


FRUIT   CULTURE  AND  LITERARY  WORK 

first.  Frequently  he  would  remain  at  his  son's 
house  for  breakfast,  and  afterwards  the  two  would 
wander  together  over  the  grounds  while  the  dew 
was  still  fresh  upon  the  fruit  and  flowers.  Many 
of  the  rosebushes  and  shrubs  had  been  transplanted 
from  the  old  garden,  and  it  delighted  my  father 
and  brother  to  see  that  they  were  flourishing  and 
blooming  in  their  new  environment. 

When  Edward  first  moved  to  Cornwall  several 
newspapers  severely  criticised  him  for  giving  up 
the  ministry  to  write  novels.  I  was  sitting  with 
him  alone  in  his  library  one  day  when  such  a  criti 
cism  came  to  him  through  the  mail.  After  reading 
it  he  handed  it  quietly  to  me,  went  to  his  desk  and 
took  down  a  bundle  of  letters,  saying:  "These 
are  mostly  from  young  men,  not  one  of  whom  I 
know,  who  have  written  to  me  of  the  benefit  re 
ceived  from  my  books."  He  then  read  to  me 
some  of  those  touching  letters  of  confession  and 
thanks  for  his  inspiring  help  to  a  better  life. 

When  he  finished  reading  the  letters  he  said :  "  I 
know  my  books  are  read  by  thousands ;  my  voice 
reached  at  most  but  a  few  hundred.  I  believe 
many  who  would  never  think  of  writing  to  me 
such  letters  as  these  are  also  helped.  Do  you 
think  I  have  made  a  mistake?  My  object  in  writ 
ing,  as  in  preaching,  is  to  do  good,  and  the  ques 
tion  is,  Which  can  I  do  best?  I  think  with  the 


128      FRUIT  CULTURE  AND  LITERARY  WORK 

pen,  and  I  shall  go  on  writing,  no  matter  what 
the  critics  say." 

Still  his  name  was  retained  on  the  rolls  of  the 
North  River  Presbytery,  and  he  was  always  ready 
to  preach  when  needed,  especially  in  neglected 
districts.  For  a  long  time  after  father's  death  he 
kept  up  the  little  Sunday-school  that  had  been 
father's  special  care. 

His  home  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  river 
and  mountains,  and  he  would  watch  with  great 
delight  the  grand  thunder-storms  that  so  often 
sweep  over  the  Highlands.  I  take  this  description 
of  a  storm  from  one  of  his  letters :  — 

"  This  moist  summer  has  given  a  rich,  dark  lux 
uriance  to  the  foliage,  that  contrasts  favorably 
to  the  parched,  withered  aspect  of  everything  last 
year.  The  oldest  inhabitants  (that  class  so  sorely 
perplexed  in  this  age  of  innovations)  were  aston 
ished  to  learn  that  a  sharp  frost  occurred  in  the 
mountains  back  of  us,  just  before  the  Fourth. 
Even  the  seasons  have  caught  the  infection  of  the 
times,  and  no  longer  continue  their  usual  jog-trot 
through  the  year,  but  indulge  in  the  strangest 
extremes  and  freaks. 

"  A  person  living  in  the  city  can  have  little  idea 
of  thunder-storms  as  they  occur  in  this  mountain 
region.  The  hills  about  us,  while  they  attract  the 
electrified  clouds,  are  also  our  protection,  for, 


FRUIT  CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK      I2Q 

abounding  in  iron  ore,  they  become  huge  lightning- 
rods  above  the  houses  and  hamlets  at  their  bases. 
But  little  recks  old  Bear  Mountain,  or  Cro'  Nest, 
Jove's  most  fiery  bolts.  The  rocky  splinters  fly 
for  a  moment;  some  oak  or  chestnut  comes  quiv 
ering  down;  but  soon  the  mosses,  like  kindly 
charity,  have  covered  up  the  wounded  rock,  and 
three  or  four  saplings  have  grown  from  the  roots 
of  the  blighted  tree. 

"  But  the  storm  we  witness  from  our  safe  and 
sheltered  homes  is  often  grand  beyond  descrip 
tion.  At  first,  in  the  distant  west,  a  cloud  rises  so 
dark  that  you  can  scarcely  distinguish  it  from  a 
blue  highland.  But  a  low  muttering  of  thunder 
vibrates  through  the  sultry  air,  and  we  know  what 
is  coming.  Soon  the  afternoon  sun  is  shaded,  and 
a  deep,  unnatural  twilight  settles  upon  the  land 
scape  like  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow  on  a  face 
that  was  smiling  a  moment  before.  The  thunder 
grows  heavier,  like  the  rumble  and  roar  of  an 
approaching  battle.  The  western  arch  of  the  sky 
is  black  as  night.  The  eastern  arch  is  bright  and 
sunny,  and  as  you  glance  from  side  to  side,  you 
cannot  but  think  of  those  who,  comparatively  inno 
cent  and  happy  at  first,  cloud  their  lives  in  maturer 
years  with  evil  and  crime,  and  darken  the  future 
with  the  wrath  of  heaven.  At  last  the  vanguard 
of  black  flying  clouds,  disjointed,  jagged,  the  rough 

9 


130      FRUIT   CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK 

skirmish  line  of  the  advancing  storm,  is  over  our 
heads.  Back  of  these,  in  one  dark,  solid  mass, 
comes  the  tempest.  For  a  moment  there  is  a  sort 
of  hush  of  expectation,  like  the  lull  before  a  battle. 
The  trees  on  the  distant  brow  of  a  mountain  are 
seen  to  toss  and  writhe,  but  as  yet  no  sound  is 
heard.  Soon  there  is  a  faint,  far-away  rushing 
noise,  the  low,  deep  prelude  of  nature's  grand 
musical  discord  that  is  to  follow.  There  is  a  vivid 
flash,  and  a  startling  peal  of  thunder  breaks  forth 
overhead,  and  rolls  away  with  countless  reverbera 
tions  among  the  hills.  In  the  meantime  the  dis 
tant  rushing  sound  has  developed  into  an  increasing 
roar.  Half-way  down  the  mountain-side  the  trees 
are  swaying  wildly.  At  the  base  stands  a  grove, 
motionless,  expectant,  like  a  square  of  infantry 
awaiting  an  impetuous  cavalry  charge.  In  a  mo 
ment  it  comes.  At  first  the  shock  seems  terrible. 
Every  branch  bends  low.  Dead  limbs  rattle  down 
like  hail.  Leaves,  torn  away,  fly  wildly  through 
the  air.  But  the  sturdy  trunks  stand  their  ground, 
and  the  baffled  tempest  passes  on.  Mingling  with 
the  rush  of  the  wind  and  reverberations  of  thunder, 
a  new  sound,  a  new  part  now  enters  into  the  grand 
harmony.  At  first  it  is  a  low,  continuous  roar, 
caused  by  the  falling  rain  upon  the  leaves.  It 
grows  louder  fast,  like  the  pattering  feet  of  a  com 
ing  multitude.  Then  the  great  drops  fall  around, 


FRUIT  CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK      131 

yards  apart,  like  scattering  shots.  They  grow 
closer,  and  soon  a  streaming  torrent  drives  you  to 
shelter.  The  next  heavy  peal  is  to  the  eastward, 
showing  that  the  bulk  of  the  shower  is  past.  The 
roar  of  the  thunder  just  dies  away  down  the  river. 
The  thickly  falling  rain  contracts  your  vision  to  a 
narrow  circle,  out  of  which  Cozzens's  great  hotel 
and  Bear  Mountain  loom  vaguely.  The  flowers 
and  shrubbery  bend  to  the  moisture  with  the  air 
of  one  who  stands  and  takes  it.  The  steady,  con 
tinuous  plash  upon  the  roof  slackens  into  a  quiet 
pattering  of  raindrops.  The  west  is  lightening  up ; 
by  and  by  a  long  line  of  blue  is  seen  above  Cro' 
Nest.  The  setting  sun  shines  out  upon  a  purified 
and  more  beautiful  landscape.  Every  leaf,  every 
spear  of  grass  is  brilliant  with  gems  of  moisture. 
The  cloud  scenery  has  all  changed.  The  sun  is 
setting  in  unclouded  splendor.  Not  the  west  but 
the  east  is  now  black  with  storm ;  but  the  rainbow, 
emblem  of  hope  and  God's  mercy,  spans  its  black 
ness,  and  in  the  skies  we  again  have  suggested  to 
us  a  life,  once  clouded  and  darkly  threatened  by 
evil,  but  now,  through  penitence  and  reform,  end 
ing  in  peace  and  beauty,  God  spanning  the  wrong 
of  the  past  with  His  rich  and  varied  promises  of  for 
giveness.  At  last  the  skies  are  clear  again.  Along 
the  eastern  horizon  the  retreating  storm  sends 
up  occasional  flashes,  that  seem  like  regretful 


132      FRUIT   CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK 

thoughts  of  the  past.  Then  night  comes  on,  cool, 
moonlit,  breathless.  Not  a  leaf  stirs  where  an 
hour  before  the  sturdiest  limbs  bent  to  the  earth. 
This  must  be  nature's  commentary  on  the  '  peace 
that  passeth  all  understanding.'" 

At  this  period  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott  made  his 
permanent  home  in  Cornwall,  going  almost  daily 
to  the  city  to  attend  to  his  duties  as  editor  of  the 
Christian  Union. 

In  a  short  article  written  for  that  paper  my 
brother  describes  a  drive  taken  over  the  mountains 
when  Dr.  Abbott  was  entertaining  the  Brooklyn 
Association  of  Congregational  Ministers. 

"  Pleasures  long  planned  and  anticipated  often 
prove  '  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable  '  when  at  last 
they  disappoint  us  in  their  sorry  contrast  with  our 
hopes,  while  on  the  other  hand  good  times  that 
come  unexpectedly  are  enjoyed  all  the  more 
keenly  because  such  agreeable  surprises.  The 
other  morning  the  editor  of  the  Christian  Union, 
Dr.  Lyman  Abbott,  who  is  a  near  neighbor  and  a 
nearer  friend,  appeared  at  my  door  with  the  an 
nouncement  that  he  was  to  meet  on  the  morrow  at 
the  West  Point  landing  the  New  York  and  Brook 
lyn  Association  of  Congregational  Ministers,  at  the 
same  time  giving  me  an  invitation  to  accompany 
him,  which  I  accepted  on  the  spot.  The  morning 
of  the  27th  found  us  leading  an  array  of  carriages 


FRUIT  CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK      133 

up  the  Cornwall  slope  of  the  mountain,  for  it  had 
been  arranged  that  the  gentlemen  whom  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Abbott  were  to  entertain  for  the  day  should 
land  at  West  Point  and  enjoy  one  of  the  finest 
drives  in  America  across  the  Highlands,  instead  of 
a  prosaic  ride  down  from  Newburgh  through  the 
brickyards.  The  Albany  day  boat  was  on  time, 
and  so  were  we,  and  there  stepped  on  shore  a  ven 
erable  body  of  divinity,  or  rather  several  bodies, 
led  by  Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  and  his  brother, 
Dr.  Edward  Beecher.  A  shower  the  previous 
evening  had  left  less  dust  than  could  be  found  in 
the  immaculate  parlor  of  a  spinster,  and  the  heated 
air  had  been  cooled  to  such  a  nicety  of  adjustment 
that  we  grew  warm  in  the  praise  of  its  balminess. 
With  much  good-natured  badinage  and  repartee 
we  climbed  the  West  Point  hill  and  took  the  outer 
avenue  that  skirts  the  river  edge  of  the  plain  and 
campus.  '  The  brethren '  gazed  with  mild  curi 
osity  at '  Flirtation  Walk '  where  it  led  demurely 
and  openly  from  the  main  road,  but  soon  lost  it 
self  in  winding  intricacies,  mysterious  copsewood, 
and  the  still  deeper  mysteries  suggested  by  the 
imagination.  Let  no  grave  reader  lift  a  disdainful 
nose.  Perhaps  this  same  secluded  path  of  frivo 
lous  name  has  had  a  greater  influence  on  human 
destiny  than  himself. 

"  The  trim  plain  and  trimmer  cadets  were  soon 


134      FRUIT   CULTURE  AND   LITERARY   WORK 

left  far  behind,  and  nature  began  to  wear  the  as 
pect  it  had  shown  to  our  great  grandfathers  when 
children.  Through  the  skilful  engineering  of  Mr. 
Charles  Caldwell,  a  most  excellent  road  of  easy 
grades  winds  across  Cro'  Nest  and  Butter  Hill 
(the  latter  was  rechristened  '  Storm  King '  some 
years  since  by  the  poet,  N.  P.  Willis).  As  our 
path  zigzagged  up  the  shaggy  sides  of  Cro'  Nest, 
wider  and  superber  views  opened  out  before  us, 
until  at  last  West  Point  with  its  gleaming  tents, 
the  winding  river  with  its  silver  sheen,  and  the 
village  of  Cold  Spring  lay  at  our  feet,  while  to  the 
southwest  a  multitude  of  green  highlands  lifted 
their  crests  like  a  confusion  of  emerald  waves.  A 
few  moments  more  brought  us  to  the  summit,  and 
although  we  were  but  a  thousand  feet  nearer 
heaven  than  when  we  started,  the  air  was  so  pure 
and  sweet  and  the  sky  so  blue  that  it  might  well 
seem  to  those  who  had  so  recently  left  the  stifling 
city  that  they  had  climbed  half-way  thither.  A 
half  an  hour's  ride  brought  us  to  the  northern 
slope  of  the  mountains.  Here  we  made  a  halt  at 
Mr.  Cobb's  '  School  on  the  Heights,'  and  were  en 
tertained  with  unlimited  cherries,  which  by  some 
strange  providence  had  escaped  the  boys,  and  also 
by  some  exceedingly  interesting  gymnastic  exer 
cises  that  were  performed  to  the  rhythm  of  gay 
music.  There  are  probaby  few  finer  views  on  the 


FRUIT  CULTURE  AND   LITERARY  WORK      135 

river  than  that  from  Mr.  Cobb's  piazza  and 
grounds,  and  thus  his  pupils  are  under  the  best  of 
influences  out  of  doors  as  well  as  within.  As  Mr. 
Abbott's  guests  looked  down  upon  the  broad  ex 
panse  of  Newburgh  Bay,  the  city  itself,  the  pict 
uresque  village  of  Cornwall,  and  the  great  swale 
of  rich  diversified  country  that  lay  between  our 
lofty  eyrie  and  the  dim  and  distant  Shawangunk 
Mountains  that  blended  with  the  clouds,  they  must 
have  felt  indebted  to  their  host  for  one  of  the 
richest  pleasures  of  their  lives. 

"  At  last  Mr.  Beecher  said  that  he  carried  an 
internal  clock  which  plainly  intimated  that  it  was 
time  for  dinner.  The  descensus  was  easy,  but  Mrs. 
Abbott's  warm  welcome  and  hot  dinner  suggested 
an  avernus  only  by  blissful  contrast.  The  fun,  wit, 
and  jollity  of  the  remainder  of  the  evening  can  no 
more  be  reproduced  than  the  sparkle  of  yesterday's 
dew  or  the  ripple  of  yesterday's  waves.  It  was  a 
pleasant  thing  to  see  those  gray-haired  men,  many 
of  whom  had  been  burdened  with  care  more  than 
half  a  century,  becoming  boy-like  again  in  feeling 
and  mirthfulness." 

During  Edward's  residence  in  Cornwall,  each 
year  about  the  middle  of  June,  when  the  roses  and 
strawberries  were  in  their  prime,  it  was  his  custom 
to  send  an  annual  invitation  to  the  Philolethean 
Club  of  clergymen  in  New  York  City  to  visit  him 


136     FRUIT  CULUTRE  AND   LITERARY  WORK 

for  a  day  at  his  home.  Dr.  Howard  Crosby,  Dr. 
Lyman  Abbott,  Dr.  Schaeffer,  and  many  other 
well-known  clergymen  were  members  of  this  club. 
At  these  meetings  the  learned  and  dignified  clergy 
men  threw  aside  all  formality  and  were  like  a  com 
pany  of  college  boys  off  for  a  frolic.  Their  keen 
wit,  quick  repartee,  and  droll  stories  at  these  times 
will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  privileged  to 
listen. 

In  1882  heavy  financial  loss  came  upon  us  as  a 
family  owing  to  the  failure  of  an  elder  brother. 
Edward,  in  his  efforts  to  help  him,  became  deeply 
involved,  and  to  satisfy  his  creditors  was  obliged 
to  sell  the  copyrights  of  several  of  his  earlier 
books.  These  were  bought  by  a  friend  without 
his  knowledge  at  the  time.  After  several  years  of 
incessant  labor  he  worked  his  way  out  of  these 
difficulties,  and,  owing  to  the  immense  sale  of  his 
books,  was  able  to  redeem  his  copyrights.  He 
then  felt  free  to  take  rest  and  change  of  scene  in  a 
trip  to  Southern  California. 


CHAPTER  X 

HOME  LIFE 

AS  a  matter  of  course,  my  brother  had  frequent 
calls  from  newspaper  correspondents  and 
others  who  were  interested  in,  and  curious  about, 
the  private  life  of  a  successful  author.  The  first 
of  the  articles  here  quoted  was  entitled  "  A  Talk 
with  E.  P.  Roe,"  and  was  printed  in  a  Brooklyn 
newspaper  in  1886;  the  second  appeared  in  a 
Detroit  journal. 

"  The  works  of  few  novelists  of  the  present  day 
have  had  such  remarkable  sales  as  those  of  Mr.  E. 
P.  Roe,  and  this  will  be  the  more  readily  granted 
when  it  is  known  that  one  million  copies  of  his 
novels  have  been  sold  in  America  alone,  to  which 
nearly  one-half  of  that  number  may  be  added  as 
representing  their  sale  in  England,  Canada,  Aus 
tralia,  and  the  different  languages  into  which  they 
have  been  translated. 

"  In  appearance  the  novelist  is  a  man  of  a  trifle 
over  the  medium  size,  with  a  pleasant,  intellectual 
face,  which  is  almost  covered  with  a  rich  and 
handsome  coal-black  beard  and  mustache.  Mr. 


138  HOME  LIFE 

Roe  is  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  being  about 
forty-five  years  of  age,  and  his  manners  and  con 
versation  are  the  most  kindly  and  engaging.  He 
is  of  a  generous  disposition,  hospitable,  a  kind 
friend,  and  never  happier  than  when  in  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  to  which  he  is  devotedly  attached. 

"  It  was  the  pleasure  of  the  writer  a  few  even 
ings  ago  to  meet  the  novelist  and  engage  him  in 
conversation  regarding  himself  and  his  works. 

"  '  I  have  just  returned  from  an  afternoon  stroll,' 
remarked  the  novelist.  '  This  is  my  invariable 
custom  after  my  day's  work.  When  do  I  work? 
Well,  I  generally  sit  down  immediately  after  break 
fast,  which  I  have  about  eight  o'clock,  and  with 
the  exception  of  an  hour  for  lunch,  I  write  con 
tinuously  from  that  time  until  three  or  four  in  the 
afternoon.  Then  I  go  out  for  my  walk.' 

"  '  You  never  work  at  night,  then  ? '  was  asked. 

" '  No ;  it  is  a  bad  practice,  and  one  that  I  rarely 
indulge  in.  There  was  a  time  when  I  did  so,  but 
my  work  always  showed  it.  A  writer's  work  at 
night  is  almost  always  morbid.  There  is  no  better 
time  to  work  than  during  the  morning.' 

"  '  How  much  work  constitutes  a  day's  labor 
with  you?' 

" '  That  varies  a  great  deal.  Sometimes  I  write 
four  or  five  pages  of  foolscap,  and  other  days  I 
will  write  as  much  as  fifteen.  I  have  no  average, 


HOME  LIFE  139 

but  do  as  much  as  I  feel  like  doing,  or  have  time 
to  do,  and  then  I  stop.' 

" '  Do  you  derive  genuine  pleasure  from  your 
work  ? ' 

" '  Always,  for  I  am  absorbed  in  whatever  I  am 
writing.  I  presume  I  derived  the  most  pleasure 
from  my  "  Nature's  Serial  Story,"  for  it  was  an 
out-of-door  study,  and  anything  about  nature 
always  finds  a  responsive  chord  in  me.  Then, 
two  of  the  characters  of  that  work  portray  my 
father  and  my  mother,  and  their  memory  is 
blessed  and  sacred  to  me.  All  the  other  char 
acters  are  imaginary.' 

" '  Are  your  stories  and  novels  based  on  facts 
and  real  happenings,  as  a  rule? ' 

" '  In  every  case,'  replied  Mr.  Roe.  '  I  never 
manufacture  a  story;  I  couldn't  do  it.  Of  course, 
I  elaborate  and  idealize,  but  the  actual  facts  are 
always  drawn  from  real  life.  I  am  always  on  the 
alert  for  these  incidents,  and  when  I  see  one  that  I 
think  is  adapted  for  a  story  I  make  a  note  of  it.' 

"  '  Speaking  of  your  correspondence,  like  that  of 
most  authors,  I  presume  it  is  of  a  various  nature? ' 

"  '  Yes,  indeed,'  laughingly  replied  the  novelist. 
'  It  is  surprising  what  letters  I  sometimes  receive, 
and  how  difficult  it  is  for  some  persons  to  realize 
that  an  author's  time  is  valuable.  Of  course,  I  am 
not  a  stranger  to  the  autograph  craze,  and  of  these 


140  HOME  LIFE 

requests  I  receive,  I  think,  more  than  my  share. 
But  what  is  most  surprising  is  the  number  of  man 
uscripts  I  receive  from  young,  aspiring  authors. 
I  am  often  asked  "  to  read  them,  revise  them  care 
fully,  and  express  an  opinion  as  to  the  merit  of 
the  contribution."  Why,  I  have  frequently  been 
requested  to  do  a  whole  month's  work  on  a  single 
manuscript.  What  do  I  do  with  these?  Well,  the 
best  I  can.  If  I  have  a  spare  moment,  I  look 
over  the  story  or  article,  and  encourage  the  writer, 
if  possible.  But  at  times  the  supply  is  too  great 
for  physical  endurance.' 

" '  What  exercise  do  you  most  indulge  in,  and 
what  particular  one  do  you  recommend  ?  ' 

"  '  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  like  a  good,  long 
walk,  and  this  is  what  I  would  recommend  to  all 
who  work  with  the  brain  and  are  confined.  Exer 
cise  should  never,  in  my  opinion,  be  taken  before 
sitting  down  to  work,  always  after  the  task  of  the 
day  has  been  completed.  Then  one  receives  far 
more  benefit  from  it  than  if  taken  before  work.  I 
also  like  to  work  in  my  garden,  and  there  is  hardly 
a  better  means  of  exercise.  Hunting  and  fishing 
are  also  favorite  sports  with  me,  and  I  keep  a  good 
gun  and  a  fishing-rod  close  at  hand.' 

"  '  Have  you  entirely  given  up  gardening  for 
literature?' 

" '  Yes,  almost  entirely,  even  in  an  amateur  way. 


HOME  LIFE  141 

Of  course  I  still  retain  an  active  interest  in  every 
thing  that  is  interesting  or  new  about  a  garden  or 
a  farm.  But  as  to  any  active  participation,  as 
formerly,  I  have  been  obliged  to  desist.' 

"  It  may  be  interesting  here  to  mention  that  the 
grounds  surrounding  Mr.  Roe's  rural  retreat  at 
Cornwall-on-the-Hudson  show  no  lack  of  proper 
care  and  attention.  The  property  consists  of 
twenty-three  acres  and  is  all  cultivated  for  floral 
and  farming  purposes.  The  novelist  has  on  these 
grounds  alone  over  one  hundred  and  twelve  differ 
ent  varieties  of  grapes,  and  has  had  in  his  strawberry 
beds  seventy  different  varieties  of  that  luscious 
berry  in  bearing  at  one  time.  One  year  Mr.  Roe's 
orchards  yielded  him,  among  other  products,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  barrels  of  apples,  and  this  year 
about  forty  bushels  of  pears  will  be  taken  from  his 
trees. 

"  '  What  are  your  immediate  plans?'  was  asked 
the  novelist,  as  he  courteously  showed  the  writer 
into  the  dining-room  in  response  to  the  merry 
jingle  of  the  dinner-bell. 

" '  I  am  now  taking  a  brief  holiday,  resting  from 
overwork.  In  about  two  months  I  leave  the  North 
for  Santa  Barbara,  California,  where  I  may  remain 
for  a  year,  or  may  return  next  spring.  All  depends 
upon  how  my  family  and  myself  like  the  country 
there.  I  go  there  partly  for  pleasure  and  partly 


142  HOME   LIFE 

for  work.  I  shall  doubtless  gather  considerable 
new  material,  and  this  I  shall  incorporate  in  future 
works.  I  shall  study  the  life  of  the  people  of  that 
region,  and  intend  more  especially  to  devote  my 
self  to  studying  nature  in  the  direction  of  trees, 
plants,  as  well  as  the  animals,  birds,  etc.,  of  that 
charming  country.  My  return  North  is  uncertain, 
as  I  have  said,  and  should  everything  prove 
agreeable,  I  may  extend  my  residence  there 
indefinitely.' 

"  And  here  ended  the  writer's  chat  with  per 
haps  the  most  popular  author  of  the  day.  Mr. 
Roe  is  extremely  retiring  in  disposition ;  he  never 
courts  notoriety,  but  always  strictly  avoids  it 
whenever  possible.  And  with  his  large  black 
slouched  hat  set  carelessly  on  his  head  a  stranger 
would  more  readily  mistake  him  for  a  Cuban 
planter,  with  his  dark  complexion,  than  the  author 
of  the  novels  which  have  entered  into  thousands 
of  American  homes." 

"  Cornwall  is  situated  on  the  western  bank  of 
the  Hudson,  just  north  of  the  Highlands.  If  you 
arrive  by  steamer  you  find  an  energetic  crowd  of 
'bus  men,  who  are  eager  to  be  of  service  to  you. 
Most  of  the  vehicles  have  four  horses  attached, 
which  seem  to  tell  of  a  hill  in  the  neighborhood. 
We  passed  Cornwall  several  times  by  boat,  and 
saw  enough  of  the  energy  of  the  hackmen  to  make 


HOME   LIFE  143 

us  resolve  to  reach  the  place  some  time  when 
they  were  absent.  Consequently  we  sailed  down 
on  Cornwall  as  General  Wolfe  sailed  down  on 
Quebec  —  in  a  small  boat,  and  captured  the  place 
easily. 

"  As  we  walked  up  the  rickety  steps  that  lead 
from  the  water  to  the  wharf,  there  was  no  deputa 
tion  there  to  meet  us. 

" '  Now  the  first  thing/  said  my  companion,  '  is 
to  find  out  where  Mr.  Roe  lives.' 

"  '  No,  that 's  the  second  thing,'  I  replied.  '  The 
first  thing  is  to  find  out  where  we  are  to  get 
supper.' 

"  The  reasonableness  of  this  proposal  was  so 
apparent  that  further  remark  was  not  so  necessary 
as  finding  a  hotel  well  stocked  with  provisions. 

"  We  found  it  in  the  shape  of  an  unpretentious 
brick  structure  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  By  the  way, 
everything  is  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  at  Cornwall 
Landing.  The  landlady,  who  was  the  pink  of 
neatness,  promised  us  all  we  could  eat  on  our  re 
turn,  although  if  she  had  known  my  talents  in  that 
line  she  would  have  hesitated.  I  noticed  that  she 
referred  to  '  Mr.  Roe,  the  author,'  while  our  fellow 
voyager  in  the  small  boat  spoke  of  him  as  '  the 
strawberry  man.'  Probably  the  boor  who  relished 
the  production  of  Mr.  Roe's  garden  would  have 
been  surprised  to  know  that  the  productions  of 


144  HOME  LIFE 

his  pen  were  even  more  sought  after  than  that 
delicious  fruit. 

"  But  evening  is  coming  on  and  we  have  a  long 
hill  before  us,  so  we  must  proceed.  A  Cornwall 
road  is  always  either  going  up  or  down,  and  a  per 
son  gets  great  opportunities  for  rising  in  the  world 
as  he  turns  his  back  on  the  Hudson  and  climbs 
to  Cornwall.  The  road  winds  up  the  hill,  often 
shaded  by  trees  and  always  accompanied  by  a 
mountain  torrent  whose  rocky  bed  lies  deep  be 
side  the  pathway.  This  stream  lacks  only  one 
thing  to  make  it  a  success  —  and  that  is  water. 
No  doubt  after  a  heavy  rain  it  would  show  com 
mendable  enterprise,  but  now  the  rocks  were  dry. 
A  thin  thread  of  clear  spring  water  trickled  along 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  now  forming  a  silvery- 
toned  waterfall,  then  losing  itself  among  the  loose 
rocks,  next  finding  itself  again,  and  sometimes 
making  the  mistake  which  humanity  often  makes, 
of  spreading  itself  too  much  and  trying  to  put  on 
the  airs  of  larger  streams. 

"  Half-way  up  is  a  spring,  surrounded  by  benches, 
welcome  to  the  pedestrian  who  finds  tramping  up 
hill  business.  The  clear,  cold  water  pours  out, 
and  an  iron  dipper,  like  Prometheus  '  chained  to  a 
pillar,'  invites  the  thirsty  to  have  a  drink.  The 
benches  form  a  semicircle  around  this  fountain, 
and  on  the  backs  thereof  some  one  has  painted  in 


HOME  LIFE  145 

large  letters  the  legend  '  Please  don't  cut  an  old 
friend.'  But  '  excelsior '  is  our  motto,  and  we 
climb.  When  we  reach  the  top  of  the  mountain 
we  part  company  with  the  rivulet,  thinking,  with 
perhaps  a  sigh,  what  a  vast  advantage  water  has 
over  people  —  it  always  goes  down  hill.  Cornwall 
now  begins  to  show  its  beauties.  It  seems  to  be  a 
big  village  composed  of  splendid  residences  and 
elegant  family  hotels  —  or  rather  huge  summer 
boarding-houses.  Excellent  roads  run  in  all  direc 
tions,  up  and  down,  turning  now  to  the  right  and 
now  to  the  left,  until  a  stranger  loses  all  idea  of  the 
points  of  the  compass. 

"  About  a  mile  from  the  landing,  if  you  are  in  a 
carriage,  or  about  five  miles  if  you  are  on  foot, 
you  come  to  an  open  gateway,  through  which  a 
road  turns  that  might  be  mistaken  for  one  of  the 
many  offshoots  of  the  public  street,  were  it  not 
that  a  notice  conspicuously  posted  up  informs  the 
traveller  that  the  way  is  private  property.  A  cot 
tage,  probably  a  gardener's  residence,  stands  be 
side  the  gate.  The  land  slopes  gently  downward 
from  the  road  and  then  rises  beyond,  leaving  a 
wide  valley  between  the  street  and  a  large  two- 
story  frame  building  that  stands  on  the  rising 
ground.  This  is  the  home  of  E.  P.  Roe,  author  of 
'  Barriers  Burned  Away,'  '  Opening  of  a  Chestnut 
Burr,' '  From  Jest  to  Earnest,'  and  other  well-known 

10 


146  HOME   LIFE 

works,  read  and  enjoyed  by  thousands  in  America 
and  in  England.  Between  the  house  and  the  road 
are  long  rows  of  strawberry  plants  that  looked 
tempting  even  in  September.  The  house  stands 
in  about  the  centre  of  a  plot  of  twenty-three  acres. 
The  side  is  toward  the  road,  and  a  broad  piazza 
runs  along  the  length  of  it,  from  which  glimpses  of 
the  distant  Hudson  can  be  had  through  the  frame 
work  of  trees  and  hills.  The  piazza  is  reached  by 
broad  steps,  and  is  high  enough  from  the  ground 
to  make  a  grand  tumbling-off  place  for  the  numer 
ous  jovial  and  robust  youngsters  that  romp  around 
there  and  call  Mr.  Roe  '  papa.'  A  wide  hall  runs 
through  the  centre  of  the  house,  and  the  whole 
dwelling  has  a  roomy  air  that  reminds  one  of  the 
generous  and  hospitable  mansions  for  which  the 
South  is  famous.  Mr.  Roe's  house  is  without  any 
attempt  at  architectural  ornamentation,  unless  the 
roof  window  in  the  centre  can  be  called  an  orna 
ment;  but  there  is  something  very  homelike  about 
the  place,  something  that  is  far  beyond  the  powers 
of  architecture  to  supply. 

"  My  fellow-traveller  sat  down  in  one  of  the  rural 
chairs  that  stood  invitingly  on  the  piazza,  and  I 
manipulated  the  door-bell. 

"  While  the  servant  is  coming  to  open  the  door 
I  may  as  well  confess  that  I  have  undertaken  to 
write  the  play  of  Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out. 


HOME  LIFE  147 

"  Mr.  Roe  was  not  at  home. 

"  I  tell  this  now  so  that  the  reader  will  not  be 
disappointed  when  the  girl  opens  the  door. 

"  The  door  opens. 

"  Could  we  see  Mr.  Roe? 

"  Mr.  Roe  had  left  that  very  morning  for  New 
York. 

" '  He  evidently  heard  in  some  way  we  were 
coming,'  said  my  companion,  sotto  voce. 

"  When  would  he  return? 

"  Perhaps  not  this  week.  Would  we  walk  in  and 
see  Mrs.  Roe? 

"  The  next  thing  to  seeing  an  author  is  to  see 
the  author's  wife,  so  we  accepted  the  invitation  and 
walked  into  the  parlor.  Before  we  walked  out  we 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  next  thing  to  see 
ing  the  author's  wife  is  to  see  the  author. 

"  Now,  of  course,  I  might  have  taken  an  inven 
tory  of  the  articles  in  the  parlor,  just  as  if  I  were  a 
deputy  sheriff,  or  a  tax  collector,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  but  I  did  n't.  I  might  tell  of  the  piano 
that  stood  in  one  corner  and  the  pile  of  music  that 
reached  from  the  floor  to  the  top  of  it,  and  of  the 
little  table  covered  with  stereoscopic  views,  and 
the  photograph  of  Mr.  Roe  framed  above  it,  and 
of  the  two  low  front  windows  with  their  river  view 
and  their  lace  curtains,  and  the  large  folding-doors 
opening  into  the  library,  the  workshop  of  Mr.  Roe, 


148  HOME  LIFE 

and  of  the  quiet,  neutral  tints  of  the  carpet,  or  the 
many  contents  of  the  whatnot  in  the  corner,  and 
the  paintings  and  engravings  on  the  walls,  and  the 
comfortable  easy-chairs,  and  the  books  scattered 
here  and  there,  and  of  dozens  of  other  things  that 
made  up  an  author's  parlor,  but  I  will  not  mention 
one  of  them. 

"  I  had  the  idea  that  E.  P.  Roe  was  a  kindly  old 
gentleman  with  gray  hair.  Kindly  he  undoubt 
edly  is,  but  old  he  is  not.  His  portrait  shows  him 
to  have  a  frank,  manly  countenance,  with  an  earnest 
and  somewhat  sad  expression.  He  has  dark  hair 
and  a  full  beard,  long  and  black.  Mr.  Roe  is  at 
present  writing  a  series  of  articles  on  small  fruits 
for  ScribneSs  Magazine.  The  publishers  of  that 
periodical  intend  to  give  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Roe, 
which  will  be  the  first  ever  published.  It  may 
appear  in  the  December  number,  and  if  it  does  the 
readers  of  this  paper  are  respectfully  referred  to 
the  pages  of  that  magazine.  It  seems  to  be  the 
general  idea  that  Mr.  Roe  is  an  old  man.  For 
instance,  a  lady  writing  from  Wheeling,  VV.  Va.,  to 
The  Household  a  few  weeks  since,  says :  — 

" '  Some  one  asked  if  Rev.  E.  P.  Roe  had  taken  his 
characters  from  life  or  not.  Several  years  ago  we  had 
amongst  us  a  certain  Professor  Roe  (vocal  teacher,  pos 
sessing  a  beautiful  tenor  voice),  said  to  be  a  son  of 
the  novelist.  If  he  was  a  son,  the  character  of  Walter 


HOME  LIFE  149 

Gregory  in  "  Opening  of  a  Chestnut  Burr  "  was  certainly 
drawn  from  him,  and  it  always  seemed  to  me  that  Dennis 
Fleet's  wonderful  voice  in  "  Barriers  Burned  Away  "  was 
likened  to  his  voice.' 

"  If  this  writer  could  have  seen  the  youthful  ap 
pearance  of  Mrs.  Roe,  she  would  have  no  hesitation 
in  denying  the  professor's  alleged  relationship  to 
the  novelist.  Her  husband  is  not  yet  forty. 

"  I  wish  Scribners  would  publish  a  portrait  of 
Mrs.  Roe.  It  would  certainly  add  to  the  popu 
larity  of  the  magazine.  Such  a  lady  must  be  a 
wonderful  help  to  her  husband.  I  think,  as  a  gen 
eral  thing,  the  world  gives  too  little  credit  to  the 
power  behind  the  throne. 

"  Mrs.  Roe  deserves  at  least  half  the  credit 
of  '  Barriers  Burned  Away,'  which  is  certainly 
E.  P.  Roe's  most  dramatic  work,  and  had,  no 
doubt,  a  great  deal  to  do  with  many  of  his  other 
volumes.  This  particular  work  describes  the  thrill 
ing  scenes  of  the  Chicago  fire  with  a  vividness  and 
power  that  is  rarely  surpassed.  When  the  whole 
world  was  thrilled  by  the  dreadful  tidings  of  a 
city's  destruction,  Mr.  Roe  said  to  his  wife  that  if 
he  could  collect  some  of  the  actual  occurrences 
that  must  be  transpiring  there  he  thought  he  could 
write  a  book  about  it.  Mrs.  Roe  at  once  decided 
for  him.  Her  advice  was  that  so  tersely  put  by 
Mr.  Greeley.  Although  nearly  a  thousand  miles 


150  HOME   LIFE 

intervened,  Mr.  Roe  was  in  Chicago  before  the  fire 
had  ceased,  and  the  incidents  so  graphically  de 
picted  in  '  Barriers  Burned  Away '  were  the  result 
of  actual  observation. 

"  Most  of  Mr.  Roe's  characters  are  taken  from 
real  life,  and  all  of  his  works  are  written  for  a  pur 
pose,  as  can  readily  be  seen  in  '  What  Can  She 
Do  ? '  for  example.  His  next  book,  which  will 
be  published  in  a  few  days,  will  furnish  another 
instance  of  writing  for  a  purpose.  Its  title  is, 
'  Without  a  Home ; '  the  subject  it  treats  is  the 
tenement-house  problem,  which  is  at  present  agi 
tating  New  York  and  all  large  cities.  In  this  work 
the  scenes  and  personages  will  be  nearly  all  from 
real  life.  If  the  book  were  not  in  press  the  tene 
ment-house  fires  in  New  York  on  Friday,  causing 
the  death  of  seven  persons,  would  furnish  a  tragic 
climax  to  his  story.  What  could  be  more  terribly 
pathetic  than  the  frantic  mother  penned  in  by  the 
smoke  and  flame,  dragging  herself  to  the  bedside 
of  her  children  to  die  with  them?  In  choosing  the 
evils  of  the  tenement-house  system  as  a  subject, 
Mr.  Roe  strikes  at  one  of  the  worst  features  of 
city  life. 

"  It  was  to  finish  the  last  pages  of  this  book  that 
Mr.  Roe  was  now  '  Without  a  Home '  himself,  and 
as  the  printers  were  clamoring  for  copy,  he  had 
betaken  himself  to  a  room  in  a  New  York  hotel 


HOME  LIFE  151 

to  write  without  interruption.  Mr.  Roe  is  too 
good-natured  to  deny  himself  to  visitors,  and  they 
make  great  inroads  on  his  time. 

"  '  If  he  hears  the  voice  of  a  friend,'  said  Mrs. 
Roe,  '  he  cannot  remain  at  his  desk.' 

"  So  when  there  is  work  that  must  be  done,  Mr. 
Roe  banishes  himself  from  home  and  friends  and 
flies  to  that  loneliness  which  only  a  great  and 
crowded  city  can  supply. 

"  Mrs.  Roe's  favorite  book  is  *  The  Opening  of  a 
Chestnut  Burr,'  and  this  must  be  a  favorite  work 
with  many,  for  it  has  reached  its  thirtieth  thousand, 
not  to  mention  the  numerous  reprints  in  England 
and  Canada.  The  realistic  incident  in  this  work, 
which  supplies  the  place  the  Chicago  fire  does  in 
the  other,  is  the  sinking  in  mid  ocean  of  the  French 
steamer  Ville  d'Havre. 

"I  think,  although  it  is  only  mere  conjecture  on 
my  part,  that  Mrs.  Roe  herself  is  the  heroine  of 
this  book.  For  that  reason  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
say  anything  of  the  lady,  as  the  reader  can  turn  to 
the  book  and  satisfy  all  curiosity  there.  But  if  I 
should  find,  at  some  future  time,  that  I  am  mis 
taken  in  my  surmise,  I  shall  make  that  my  excuse 
for  the  pleasant  task  of  writing  again  of  Mrs.  Roe. 
The  old  homestead  is  described  in  the  '  Opening 
of  a  Chestnut  Burr/  and  naturally  this  would  en 
dear  the  book  to  those  who  lived  there. 


152  HOME   LIFE 

"  The  library  in  which  Mr.  Roe  does  his  writing, 
when  at  home,  is  a  sunny  room  filled  from  floor  to 
ceiling  with  books.  A  large  flat  desk,  covered 
with  papers,  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and 
this  is  the  novelist's  work-bench.  I  shall  conclude 
with  a  few  words  regarding  Mr.  Roe's  method  of 
working.  Mr.  Roe  himself  has  supplied  this  in  a 
letter  written  nearly  a  year  ago,  to  an  admirer,  and 
part  of  which  I  am  allowed  to  copy.  This  extract 
forms  a  portion  of  Mr.  Roe's  work  never  before 
published,  and  the  writer  himself  had  no  idea  it 
would  ever  appear  in  print.  The  letter  bears  date 
November  25,  1878.  He  says:  — 

" '  My  aim  is  to  spend  the  earlier  part  of  the 
day  in  my  study,  but  I  cannot  always  control  my 
time,  much  of  which  is  lost  in  interruptions.  I 
sometimes  have  to  go  away  and  shut  myself  up  for 
a  time.  I  am  not  as  systematic  as  I  ought  to  be. 
I  like  to  write  the  latter  part  of  my  books  at  white 
heat,  first  getting  full  of  my  story  and  then  writing 
with  a  zest.  I  call  from  five  to  eight  pages  a  good 
day's  work,  although  in  some  moods  I  write  many 
more.  Again,  I  will  work  hard  over  three  or  four. 
I  am  opposed  to  night  work. 

"  '  I  hope  to  average  five  hours  a  day  hereafter 
in  my  study,  and  three  or  four  in  my  garden.  I 
employ  from  ten  to  fifteen  men  and  from  ten  to 
thirty  boys  in  picking  the  berries.  A  large  part 


HOME   LIFE  153 

of  my  labor  is  employed  in  taking  up  and  packing 
plants.  The  department  of  fruit  culture  to  which 
I  give  my  chief  attention,  is  the  keeping  of  each 
variety  separate  and  pure.  This  I  trust  to  no  one, 
and  it  requires  constant  vigilance.' 

"After  leaving  the  residence  of  Mr.  Roe,  we 
went  half  a  mile  or  so  farther  on  to  Idlewild,  once 
the  home  of  N.  P.  Willis.  Darkness  came  on  be 
fore  we  reached  there  and  we  had  our  labor  for 
our  pains. 

"  Mrs.  Roe  said  that  Idlewild  is  little  changed 
since  the  poet  left  it.  A  recent  freshet  swept  away 
the  bridges  he  built  in  the  Glen,  but  otherwise  it  is 
the  same  as  it  was  before.  Thus  ended  our  visit 
to  Cornwall-on-the-Hudson." 


CHAPTER  XI 

SANTA  BARBARA 

MY  brother's  boyhood  friend,  Mr.  Merwin, 
speaking  of  his  visits  at  Cornwall  later, 
says :  "  When  honors  came  in  troops,  I  found 
Edward  was  the  same  kindly  unostentatious  man, 
the  truly  loyal  friend.  Later,  after  some  corre 
spondence  with  me,  he  came  to  Southern  Cal 
ifornia,  where  under  those  sunny  skies  and  semi- 
tropical  scenes  his  love  of  Nature  found  great 
delight. 

"  While  visiting  at  Pasadena,  as  we  drove  about 
that  beautiful  city,  he  emphasized  what  he  had 
often  told  me,  that  one  of  the  great  joys  of  his 
life  was  that  which  came  to  him  from  the  hun 
dreds  of  letters  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and 
many  written  by  people  in  humble  circumstances, 
thanking  him  most  heartily  for  the  cheer  and 
encouragement  he  had  given  them  through  his 
books." 

After  a  short  stay  with  his  friend  in  Pasadena 
Edward  went  with  his  wife  and  children  to  Santa 
Barbara.  There  they  occupied  a  pleasantly  situ- 


SANTA  BARBARA  155 

ated  cottage,  owned  by  a  New  England  lady  and 
her  daughter,  under  whose  excellent  care  they  en 
joyed  the  rest  and  freedom  from  restraint  that 
cannot  be  found  in  crowded  hotels. 

In  a  letter  written  to  the  Detroit  Tribune 
my  brother  gives  his  experience  of  a  California 
winter. 

"  My  impression  is  that  January  first  was  the 
warmest  day  of  the  month.  Certainly  on  no  other 
days  was  I  so  conscious  of  the  sun's  heat,  yet  the 
air  was  so  deliciously  cool  and  fresh  in  the  early 
morning.  There  had  been  a  heavy  dew,  and  grass, 
weed,  hedge,  and  flower  were  gemmed  in  the  bril 
liant  sunshine. 

"  Walking  up  town  with  my  mail  at  about  ten 
in  the  morning,  I  found  myself  perspiring  as  upon 
a  hot  day  in  August,  but  there  was  no  sense  of 
oppression.  One  was  exhilarated  rather  than 
wilted.  After  reaching  our  cottage  piazza  and 
the  shelter  of  the  climbing  roses  and  honeysuckle, 
the  change  was  decidedly  marked.  This  is  said 
to  be  the  peculiarity  the  year  round,  even  in 
midsummer.  One  has  only  to  step  out  of  the 
sun's  rays  in  order  to  be  cool,  and  the  dead,  sultry 
heat  which  sometimes  induces  one  to  yearn  for 
the  depths  of  a  cave  is  unknown. 

"  As  I  sat  there  in  the  shade,  letting  the  paper 
fall  from  my  hand  in  the  deeper  interest  excited 


156  SANTA  BARBARA 

by  my  immediate  surroundings,  I  could  scarcely 
realize  that  we  were  in  the  depths  of  winter. 

"  The  air  was  fragrant  from  blooming  flowers ; 
finches  and  Audubon's  warblers  were  full  of  song 
in  the  pepper  trees,  while  humming  birds  were 
almost  as  plentiful  as  bumble-bees  in  June. 

"  It  was  evident  that  the  day  was  being  cele 
brated  in  the  manner  characteristic  of  the  place. 
One  might  fancy  that  half  the  population  were 
on  horseback.  In  twos  and  fours  they  clattered 
along  the  adjacent  streets,  while  from  more  distant 
thoroughfares,  until  the  sounds  were  like  faint 
echoes,  came  also  the  sounds  of  horses'  feet  rap 
idly  striking  the  hard  adobe  of  the  roadways.  In 
addition  to  those  who  gave  the  impression  of  life 
and  movement  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  large 
equestrian  parties  had  started  for  mountain  passes 
and  distant  cafions,  taking  with  them  hearty  lunches 
in  which  the  strawberries  were  a  leading  feature. 
As  long  as  the  sun  was  well  above  the  horizon 
delicate  girls,  almost  in  summer  costume,  could  sit 
in  the  shade  of  the  live-oaks  in  safety,  but  when 
the  sun  declines  to  a  certain  point,  between  four 
and  five  in  winter,  there  is  a  sudden  chill  in  the 
air,  and  those  who  do  not  protect  themselves  by 
wraps  or  overcoats  are  likely  to  be  punished  with 
as  severe  colds  as  they  would  take  in  a  Boston  east 
wind. 


SANTA  BARBARA  157 

"It  has  often  seemed  to  me  warmer  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening  than  at  four  in  the  after 
noon. 

"  We  resolved  to  have  our  holiday  outing  as  well 
as  the  others,  and  after  dinner  were  bowling  out  on 
the  road  to  Montecito,  the  favorite  suburb  of  Santa 
Barbara.  The  fields  by  the  roadside  were  as  bare 
and  brown  as  ours  in  winter  when  not  covered  with 
snow,  but  drought,  not  frost,  was  the  cause.  The 
'  rainy  season '  was  well  advanced,  but  there  had 
been  no  rain  in  quantity  sufficient  to  awaken  nature 
from  her  sleep.  In  this  climate  vegetation  is 
always  a  question  of  moisture. 

"  When  reaching  the  villa  region  of  Montecito, 
blossoming  gardens  and  green  lawns  illustrated 
this  truth.  After  a  visit  to  the  beautiful  grounds 
and  fine  residence  of  Mr.  A.  L.  Anderson,  so  well 
remembered  by  thousands  as  the  captain  of  the 
favorite  Hudson  River  steamboat  the  Mary  Powell, 
we  drove  on  to  one  of  the  largest  orange  groves  on 
this  part  of  the  coast.  Mr.  Johnson,  one  of  the 
proprietors,  received  us  most  hospitably,  and  led 
the  way  into  a  grove  that  sloped  toward  the  moun 
tains.  The  ground  was  scrupulously  free  from 
weeds,  mellow  as  an  ash  heap,  and  had  evidently 
been  made  very  fertile.  Mr.  Johnson  told  me  that 
he  fed  the  trees  constantly  and  liberally,  and  this 
course  is  in  accordance  with  nature  and  with  rea- 


158  SANTA  BARBARA 

son,  for  the  orange  tree  never  rests.  While  the 
fruit  is  ripening  the  tree  is  blossoming  for  a  new 
crop.  Always  growing  and  producing,  it  requires 
a  constant  supply  of  plant  food,  and  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  deep  green  and  vigorous  aspect  of 
the  grove  and  its  fruitfulness  consisted  undoubt 
edly  in  the  richness  at  the  roots. 

"Another  and  leading  cause  was  in  abundant 
supply  of  water. 

"  From  a  canon  near  by  a  mountain  stream 
flowed  down  skirting  the  grove.  This  stream  was 
tapped  by  an  iron  pipe  at  a  point  sufficiently  high 
to  furnish  by  gravity  all  the  water  required,  and 
it  was  distributed  by  a  simple  yet  ingenious 
contrivance. 

"  The  utmost  vigilance  is  exercised  against  in 
sect  pests  and  the  mutilation  of  the  roots  by 
gophers.  The  results  of  all  this  intelligent  care 
and  cultivation  were  seen  in  the  surprising  beauty 
and  fruitfulness  of  the  trees,  which  were  laden  with 
from  one  to  two  thousand  golden-hued  oranges,  in 
addition  to  the  green  ones  not  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  leaves  at  a  distance.  Even  so  early  in 
the  season  there  were  a  sufficient  number  of  blos 
soms  to  fill  the  air  with  fragrance. 

"  The  brook  babbled  with  a  summer-like  sound, 
and  the  illusion  of  summer  was  increased  by  the 
song  of  birds,  the  flutter  of  butterflies,  and  the 


SANTA  BARBARA  1 59 

warm  sunshine,  rendering  vivid  the  gold  and  glossy 
green  of  the  groves.  Rising  near  and  reflecting 
down  the  needed  heat  were  the  rocky  and  precip 
itous  slopes  of  the  Santa  Ynez  Mountains.  Turn 
ing  on  one's  heel,  the  silver  sheen  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  gemmed  with  islands,  stretched  away  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach.  Could  this  be  January? 
On  our  way  home  I  felt  that  it  might  be,  for  as  the 
sun  sank  low  wraps  and  overcoats,  which  could 
not  have  been  endured  an  hour  before,  seemed 
scarcely  adequate  protection  against  the  sudden 
chill. 

"  Throughout  the  month  there  were  many  days 
like  the  first,  summer  —  like  sunshine  followed  by 
chilly  evenings  and  cool  nights.  No  rain  fell  and 
clouds  were  rarely  seen.  The  temperature  grad 
ually  became  lower  even  at  midday,  and  occasion 
ally  in  the  early  morning  there  was  a  white  frost 
on  the  boards  and  sidewalks.  The  roses  grew 
more  scattering  in  the  bushes.  Nature  did  not 
absolutely  stop  and  rest,  but  she  went  slow  over 
the  cold  divide  of  the  year.  I  know  not  how  it 
was  with  the  old  residents,  but  a  sense  of  winter 
haunted  me,  especially  on  the  quiet,  star-lit  nights. 
I  sometimes  questioned  whether  this  sense  resulted 
from  the  impressions  of  a  lifetime,  made  at  this 
season,  or  was  due  to  climatic  influences.  To 
both,  I  fancy.  When  a  baker's  horse  and  wagon, 


160  SANTA  BARBARA 

furnished  with  bells,  jingled  by,  it  was  a  sleigh  until 
memory  asserted  itself. 

"  When  abroad,  even  in  the  bright,  warm  sun 
shine,  something  in  the  appearance  of  the  sky,  the 
feel  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  aspect  of  the  bare, 
brown  fields  suggested  winter  and  created  a  mo 
mentary  astonishment  at  the  flowers  which  con 
tinued  to  bloom  in  the  watered  gardens. 

"  I  was  continually  aware  of  a  conscious  effort 
to  account  for  what  I  saw  and  to  readjust  my  ideas 
to  a  new  order  of  things. 

"  The  season  seemed  an  anomaly,  for  it  was 
neither  summer  nor  winter,  fall  nor  spring,  in  ac 
cordance  with  one's  previous  impressions.  The 
visage  of  nature  had  an  odd  and  peculiar  aspect. 
It  was  as  if  the  face  of  an  old  friend  had  assumed 
an  expression  never  seen  before.  There  was  no 
ambiguity  or  uncertainty  upon  one  point,  however, 
and  that  was  the  need  of  winter  clothing  by  day 
and  of  blankets  at  night,  roses  and  sunshine  not 
withstanding,  and  those  proposing  to  come  here 
should  always  remember  the  chill  of  shade  and 
apartments  without  fires. 

"  Although  the  mercury  never  marks  extreme 
cold,  the  sense  of  cold  is  often  felt  keenly  unless 
adequate  provision  is  made  against  it.  All  that  is 
needed,  however,  is  a  little  prudence,  for  one 
never  has  to  guard  against  sudden  and  violent 
changes. 


SANTA   BARBARA  l6l 

"As  in  the  East,  so  here,  winter  is  especially 
dedicated  to  social  pleasures.  Much  of  the  gayety 
centres  at  the  two  fine  hotels,  the  Arlington  and  the 
San  Marcos,  both  under  the  efficient  management 
of  one  proprietor,  Mr.  Cowles.  The  townspeople 
are  much  indebted  to  his  genial  courtesy,  and  the 
spacious  parlours  are  often  lined  with  the  parents 
and  chaperons  of  young  ladies  from  the  city  of 
Santa  Barbara  as  well  as  with  his  guests,  while  the 
entertainments  have  the  best  characteristics  of  a 
dancing  party  at  a  private  dwelling.  It  is  very 
fortunate  for  the  young  people  that  there  are  such 
unexceptional  places  in  which  to  meet,  for  this  town 
is  peculiarly  a  city  of  cottages,  few  being  large 
enough  for  assemblies  of  any  considerable  numbers. 

"  There  is  consequently  much  social  life  in  a 
quiet,  informal  way. 

"  One  of  the  remarkable  characteristics  of  the 
town  is  the  large  percentage  of  what  is  justly 
termed  good  society  —  a  society  not  resting  its 
claims  on  wealth  or  an  ancestry  long  known  and 
recognised  in  the  vicinity,  but  on  the  much  better 
qualities  of  refinement,  intelligence,  and  cultiva 
tion.  Search  for  health  and  a  genial  climate  have 
brought  people  here  from  all  parts  of  the  Union, 
and  not  a  few,  after  long  residence  abroad,  prefer 
this  Pacific  slope  to  any  of  the  world-renowned 
regions  on  the  Mediterranean.  One  therefore 

ii 


1 62  SANTA   BARBARA 

soon  discovers  a  marked  absence  of  provincialism 
and  is  led  to  expect  that  the  quiet  lady  or  gentle 
man  to  whom  he  is  introduced  has  seen  far  more 
of  the  world  than  himself.  The  small,  unpreten 
tious  cottage  facing  the  grassy  sidewalk  may  be 
inhabited  by  a  mechanic,  or  it  may  be  the  dwell 
ing-place  of  people  cosmopolitan  in  their  culture 
and  experience.  Strangers  are  not  wholly  de 
pendent  on  each  other  for  society,  as  is  so  often 
true  of  health  resorts,  but  find  a  resident  popula 
tion  both  hospitable  and  acquainted  with  life  in  its 
most  varied  aspects.  Much  of  the  abundant  leis 
ure  possessed  by  many  is  spent  in  reading,  and  to 
this  pleasure  a  large,  well-selected  free  library 
contributes  greatly." 

Edward  had  the  good  fortune  to  arrive  at  Santa 
Barbara  in  time  to  witness  its  unique  centen 
nial  celebration,  of  which  he  gives  a  detailed 
description. 

"  SANTA  BARBARA,  Cal.,  January  7,  1887. 

"  Few  more  interesting  events  ever  took  place 
in  the  quaint  and  quiet  town  of  Santa  Barbara 
than  its  centennial,  and  nothing  resembling  it  in 
any  true  sense  can  ever  occur  again.  The  Indian 
element  of  this  region  receded  and  disappeared 
before  the  Spanish,  and  the  latter  population  is 
fast  becoming  a  minority  among  the  still  paler 


SANTA  BARBARA  163 

faces  arriving  from  the  East.  The  time  perhaps 
is  not  distant  when  Santa  Barbara  may  be  known 
as  a  New  England  city.  Even  in  its  centennial 
the  great  effort  made  to  recall  the  past  and  the 
old  resulted  in  a  large  degree  from  the  interest 
taken  by  new  comers  in  vanishing  phases  of  life. 
The  success  of  the  enterprise  was  due  largely  to 
the  organization,  young  in  age  and  composed 
chiefly  of  youthful  members,  entitled  the  'Go 
Ahead  Club.'  The  name  itself  suggests  the' 
East,  and  the  opposite  of  the  Spanish  disposition 
to  permit  each  day  to  be  a  repetition  of  a  former 
day,  yet  the  club  had  the  tact  and  friendly  feel 
ing  to  co-operate  with  the  best  Spanish  element, 
and  to  bring  about  a  festival  week  which  inter 
ested  all  classes  of  people. 

"  For  days  even  a  stranger  was  impressed  by  a 
slight  bustle  of  preparation.  When  riding  up 
from  the  steamer  we  saw,  in  the  dim  starlight, 
that  a  great  arch  spanned  Main  Street.  Obser 
vation  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  the  morrow 
proved  this  arch  to  be  a  wooden  structure  and  a 
fine  imitation  of  the  front  of  the  old  mission  with 
its  quaint  towers.  Busy  workmen  were  draping 
the  edifice  with  some  variety  of  aromatic  ever 
green  and  with  palm  leaves,  and  it  still  remains 
as  a  suggestion  to  new  comers  of  what  they 
missed  in  not  arriving  earlier. 


I 64  SANTA   BARBARA 

"The  opening  ceremonies  of  the  week  naturally 
centered  at  the  Mission  Church,  and  on  Sunday 
the  religious  phase  of  the  festival  culminated. 
Even  before  we  were  through  breakfast  groups 
were  seen  pressing  from  town.  Later  there  were 
the  sounds  of  rapid  wheels  and  the  echoing  tramp 
of  horses.  We  soon  joined  the  increasing  throng 
wending  its  way  up  the  slopes  which  lift  the  Mis 
sion  above  the  town  and  place  it  against  the  grand 
mountain  background.  Spanish  colors,  red  and 
yellow,  hung  from  tower  to  tower,  while  Ameri 
can  flags  floated  from  the  belfry  arches.  Within 
the  long,  narrow  interior  of  the  church  the  sun 
shine  contended  with  innumerable  candles  flick 
ering  on  the  altar,  at  the  shrines,  and  from  the 
chandeliers.  The  softly  blended  light  revealed 
the  beautiful  decorations  drawn  from  the  abundant 
flora  and  plant  life  of  the  region. 

"  The  elaborate  service  began,  the  fragrance  of 
roses  was  lost  in  that  of  the  incense,  the  rustle 
of  dresses  and  tread  of  incoming  feet  in  the  mel 
low  tones  of  the  chanting  priest  and  the  responses 
of  the  choir.  Every  seat  and  all  standing  room 
was  occupied,  rich  and  poor  sharing  alike  accord 
ing  to  the  earliness  of  their  arrival.  Next  to  a 
dark-visaged  Spanish  laborer  might  be  seen  the 
delicate  bloom  of  a  New  England  girl's  features. 
Beautiful  lace  mantillas  were  worn  in  several 


SANTA  BARBARA  165 

instances.  In  looking  at  them  one  sighed  as  he 
thought  of  the  various  monstrosities  termed  bon 
nets  which  disfigure  modern  women.  The  clergy 
were  in  their  most  gorgeous  robes,  strong  con 
trasts  in  tone  and  color  on  every  side,  but  above 
all  was  a  sense  of  the  past  touching  the  present 
in  many  and  unexpected  ways ;  and  this  effect  was 
enhanced  by  a  sermon  in  English,  giving  an 
account  of  the  founding  of  the  Mission.  Late 
one  afternoon,  on  a  subsequent  day,  I  found  the 
door  of  the  church  open  and,  venturing  in,  saw 
the  western  sun  shining  through  the  high  narrow 
windows,  lighting  up  shrines  and  images  with  the 
mellowest  light  and  throwing  others  into  the 
deepest  shadow. 

"No  one  was  visible,  yet  in  the  silence  and 
desertion  of  the  place  one  felt  more  like  worship 
than  when,  a  part  of  the  throng,  he  witnessed  the 
ceremonials  of  the  preceding  Sunday. 

"  Later  still,  returning  from  a  ramble  in  Mission 
Canon,  I  peeped  into  the  old  church  once  more. 
Twilight  had  deepened  into  dusk  —  all  was  dark 
within,  except  the  faintest  glimmer  of  a  taper  at 
the  altar,  where  it  was  evident  that  some  of  the 
Franciscans  were  engaged  in  their  devotions.  As 
I  crept  noiselessly  away  the  bells  chimed  out  from 
the  belfry.  In  the  upper  gallery  of  the  long 
corridor  stretching  from  the  right  of  the  chapel 


1 66  SANTA   BARBARA 

there  was  an  immediate  opening  of  doors  and  a 
shuffling  of  feet. 

"Evidently  the  bells  had  summoned  to  some 
new  duty,  —  attendance  in  the  refectory  at  that 
hour,  I  trust,  — and  I  could  have  cordially  joined 
the  venerable  fathers  then,  however  simple  their 
diet. 

"  On  Monday  the  festival  passed  into  its  secular 
aspect.  The  morning  was  deemed  most  unfavor 
able  in  this  climate,  where  a  cloud,  even  in 
winter,  is  far  more  rare  than  roses.  The  sky  was 
overcast  with  what  the  Spaniards  call  a  '  high 
fog.'  The  sun  soon  proved,  however,  to  be  the 
victor,  for  early  in  the  day  the  leaden  pall  was 
shot  through  and  through  with  light.  Not  only 
from  the  most  distant  and  well-to-do  ranches, 
but  from  all  the  small  adobe  houses  and  huts 
that  skirt  the  mountains,  the  people  were  on  the 
way  to  town  in  the  early  hours.  They  appeared 
on  the  streets  in  almost  every  description  of 
vehicle  imaginable,  and  not  a  few  looked  as  if 
they  had  trudged  from  a  long  distance.  The 
majority,  both  of  men  and  women,  had  apparently 
ridden  in  on  their  broncho  horses,  the  hardy  and 
often  vicious  native  breed  of  the  region.  The 
townspeople  had  prepared  a  brilliant  welcome, 
for  the  whole  length  of  State  Street  was  decorated 
with  flags  and  streamers  of  many  and  varied 


SANTA   BARBARA  l6/ 

devices,  the  Spanish  and  American  colors  blend 
ing  most  amicably.  There  was  bustle  and  move 
ment,  life  and  color,  with  an  increasing  concourse 
throughout  the  whole  length  of  the  thoroughfare. 
To  a  stranger's  eye,  men  in  various  costumes 
were  riding  aimlessly  and  often  furiously  to  and 
fro,  but  as  noon  approached  affairs  began  to  cul 
minate  in  the  blocks  above  the  Arlington  Hotel. 
Here  the  procession  was  forming,  and  it  proved 
to  be  the  chief  event  of  the  week.  Nature  was 
now  assisting  to  make  the  occasion  all  that  could 
be  desired.  The  clouds  that  had  threatened  now 
merely  saved  the  day  from  an  unredeemed  glare. 
After  the  usual  delay  in  processions,  it  began 
to  pass  the  balcony  of  the  Arlington  Hotel,  where 
scores  of  guests  were  assembled  to  witness  the 
pageant.  First  came  the  grand  marshal  in  a  gen 
uine  Mexican  suit  and  mantle.  Following  him 
were  his  aids,  dressed  in  rich,  various,  and  char 
acteristic  Spanish  costumes,  some  of  which  were 
remarkable  for  their  beauty  and  others  were  pic 
turesque  in  the  extreme.  One  young  gentleman 
was  habited  in  blue,  lavishly  laced  with  silver. 
It  was  the  cadet  uniform  of  the  Spanish  army,  and 
had  belonged  to  his  grandfather.  Another,  clad 
in  cream  white  satin  and  gold  lace,  with  crimson 
sash  and  other  accessories,  made  a  striking  figure. 
"  Indeed,  each  of  the  aides  graced  the  occasion 


I 68  SANTA  BARBARA 

in  handsome  costumes  which  were,  as  I  was  told, 
no  capricious  and  fancy  affairs,  but  a  reproduc 
tion  of  the  gala  habiliments  of  the  past.  They 
sat  their  fine  horses  in  Mexican  saddles  which 
were  in  themselves  marvels  of  old  and  curious 
workmanship.  A  like  cavalcade  in  Broadway 
would  draw  out  the  town. 

"  Next  in  order  came  the  Spanish  division,  men 
and  women  on  horseback,  and  nearly  fifty  strong. 
It  was  evident  that  all  heirlooms  in  dress  had 
been  rummaged  from  their  receptacles  and  made 
to  fit  the  descendants  of  remote  ancestors.  It 
would  be  hard  to  say  how  many  different  ages  and 
how  many  provinces  in  Spain  and  Mexico  were 
represented. 

"  To  modern  eyes  the  picturesque  had  the  as 
cendency  over  other  qualities,  but  all  welcomed 
the  man  carrying  a  guitar.  At  any  rate,  this 
division  passed  all  too  quickly,  singing  an  ancient 
Spanish  song.  Close  upon  them  were  a  band  of 
soldiers  clad  in  suits  of  antiquated  buff  jerkins, 
armed  in  old  Mexican  style  with  long  pikes  and 
muskets  that  may  have  been  formidable  once.  It 
is  doubtful  whether  a  band  so  representative  of 
the  old  Spanish  element  will  ever  appear  on  the 
streets  of  an  American  town  again.  Years  hence 
such  an  attempt  will  be  more  of  a  masquerade 
than  a  reproduction.  In  this  instance  the  genuine 


SANTA   BARBARA  169 

Spaniards  were  too  numerous  and  their  traditions 
too  recent  and  real  to  permit  impositions. 

"  Many  Spaniards  and  native  Californians  not  in 
costume  now  followed,  and  then  came  an  old- 
fashioned  ox-cart,  dating  back  a  century  and  drawn 
by  oxen  yoked  by  the  horns.  Within  the  cart 
was  a  wooden  plow  that  had  turned  some  of  the 
earliest  furrows  in  this  region,  and  would  have 
been  equally  satisfactory  at  the  time  of  Abraham. 
In  this  age  of  invention  one  wonders  that  people 
remained  satisfied  so  long  with  such  primitive 
methods  and  implements.  Appropriately  follow 
ing  the  cart,  the  like  of  which  had  been  used  by 
their  ancestors,  came  the  shrunken  band  of  Mis 
sion  Indians,  the  two  foremost  of  them  carrying  a 
portrait,  draped  in  Spanish  colors,  of  Padre  Junu- 
pero  Serra. 

"  The  good  father  passed  away  centuries  ago, 
and  the  Indians  he  sought  to  civilize  are  also 
nearly  extinct,  but  the  principles  which  actuated 
him  have  redeemed  his  name  from  forgetfulness 
and  will  crown  it  with  increasing  honor. 

"The  half-dozen  Indians  were  chanting  some 
wild  song  of  their  own  when  the  fine  band  from 
San  Luis  Obispo  struck  up  and  the  wail-like  echo 
of  the  past  was  lost.  Then  came  another  signifi 
cant  and  diminishing  company,  the  Grand  Army 
of  the  Republic.  On  every  public  occasion  the 


I/O  SANTA   BARBARA 

ranks  are  thinner  and  the  hair  of  the  veterans 
grayer.  They,  too,  will  soon  leave  but  a  name, 
but  it  will  not  be  forgotten. 

"Driving  away  sad,  if  not  gloomy  thoughts, 
comes  now  a  vision  of  beauty  and  youth;  the  joy 
of  to-day  and  the  rich  promise  of  the  future  —  an 
indefinite  number  of  young  girls  who,  in  their 
two- wheeled  village  carts,  or  'tubs,'  as  the  Eng 
lish  term  them,  drew  forth  rapturous  applause. 
Well  they  might,  for  they  were  in  harmony  with 
the  loveliness  of  the  June-like  day.  Their  little 
carts  had  been  transformed  into  floral  bowers. 
The  flowers  and  greenery  so  festooned  the  horses 
that  they  were  half-hidden,  while  wheels  within 
wheels  of  smilax,  roses,  geraniums,  daisies,  and 
other  blossoms  revolved  in  unison  with  the  outer 
circumferences.  Each  little  cart  had  its  own  dis 
tinctive  character,  and  some  had  been  decorated 
with  rare  taste  and  originality.  Not  a  few  of 
the  girls  carried  parasols  constructed  entirely  of 
roses,  or  of  geraniums,  passion  flowers,  orange 
blossoms,  etc.  Greenhouses  had  not  been 
stripped  for  them,  nor,  indeed,  the  open  gardens 
from  which  they  had  been  taken.  Truly,  no  such 
visible  and  delightful  proof  could  have  been  given 
to  our  Northern  eyes  that  we  had  come  to  the  land 
of  flowers.  Gardens,  orange  trees  golden  with 
fruit,  formed  the  background  for  this  charming 


SANTA  BARBARA  If  I 

part  of  the  procession,  while  beyond  and  above 
all  rose  the  grand  Santa  Ynez  Mountains,  soften 
ing  their  rugged  outlines  with  half-veiling  mists. 

"  Burlesque  followed  close  upon  beauty  in  the 
form  of  an  old  farm  cart  laden  with  the  coarser 
vegetables  and  driven  by  two  young  men  in  the 
garb  of  ancient  females.  The  trades'  procession 
came  next,  and  spoke  well  for  the  business  of  the 
city,  but  our  eyes  soon  dwelt  lovingly  on  over  a 
hundred  school  children,  who  made,  by  their 
unrestrained  laughter,  the  sweetest  music  of  the 
day,  while  two  little  girls  riding  on  one  much- 
bedecked  donkey  caused  ripples  of  merriment  as 
they  passed. 

"  A  cavalcade  of  carriages  and  of  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  on  horseback  seemed  about  to  close  the 
procession,  when  there  appeared  one  of  the  most 
interesting  features  yet  seen  —  a  train  of  pack 
mules,  not  merely  illustrating  the  former  method 
of  transportation,  but  that  employed  to-day  by  the 
owner  of  the  train.  I  hastened  to  the  director, 
whose  dress  indicated  a  rude  mountaineer,  and 
expected  a  half  intelligible  reply  from  a  Spaniard. 
The  accent  of  his  first  word  led  me  to  scan  his 
delicate  Anglo-Saxon  features.  I  eventually 
learned  that  he  was  a  New  Yorker,  a  member  of 
one  of  its  best-known  families,  and  not  a  native 
of  a  little-known  wilderness. 


SANTA  BARBARA 

"Nevertheless  he  is  a  mountaineer.  Dressed 
for  a  Fifth  Avenue  company  one  would  not  sus 
pect  it,  his  form  is  so  slight  and  complexion  so 
fair.  Dudes  would  not  be  abashed  at  his  pres 
ence,  yet  they  would  expire  under  one  day  of  his 
experiences. 

"  Only  by  a  mule  train,  led  over  a  scarcely  prac 
ticable  trail,  can  he  reach  his  distant  ranch,  that 
is  forty-five  miles  back  in  the  heart  of  the  moun 
tains.  Here,  with  another  young  man,  a  kindred 
spirit,  he  cares  for  an  increasing  herd  of  cattle, 
and  if  necessary  is  ready  to  protect  it  from  wild 
animals.  The  grazing  grounds  are  far  within  a 
region  about  as  wild  as  it  ever  has  been.  How 
about  the  young  men  who  whine  when  they  can 
find  nothing  to  do  ? 

"The  interest  of  the  two  closing  days  of  the 
festival  centered  at  the  race  course  and  at  the 
pavilion.  The  chief  attractions  at  the  former 
place  were  to  be  seen  on  Tuesday,  and  they  were 
of  a  mixed  character.  We  were  treated  to  what 
would  seem  to  be  a  rather  rare  phenomenon  in 
Santa  Barbara  —  a  genuine  Indian  summer  day  of 
the  warmest  type,  as  we  know  it  at  the  East. 
A  haze  partly  obscured  the  Santa  Ynez  Moun 
tains,  softened  the  outlines  of  the  foothills  and 
blended  the  ocean  with  the  sky.  The  air  was 
soft  and  balmy  in  the  extreme,  but  one  soon 


SANTA   BARBARA 

detected  a  slight  chill  in  the  shade.  All  sorts  of 
vehicles,  from  stages  of  unwieldy  height,  open 
barouches,  farmers'  wagons  of  all  descriptions,  top 
buggies,  down  to  the  numerous  little  two-wheeled 
carts,  rapidly  converged  toward  the  judges'  stand. 
As  on  all  gala  occasions  here,  however,  the  num 
ber  on  horseback  was  very  large,  the  ladies  sit 
ting  their  horses  with  perfect  ease  and  grace. 
Not  a  few,  like  myself,  were  content  to  trudge  to 
the  rendezvous  on  foot.  The  grand  stand  was 
soon  crowded,  and  the  vast,  restless  concourse 
stretched  far  to  the  right  and  left  on  either  side 
of  the  race  track.  The  horsemanship  of  the 
Spaniards  could  only  be  surpassed  by  the  fine 
action  of  their  steeds,  and  all  lovers  of  this 
noblest  of  animals  must  have  been  delighted.  In 
the  effort  to  show  how  wild  cattle  were  lassoed, 
thrown,  and  branded  there  appeared  to  be  too 
much  needless  cruelty,  and  when  a  miserable  little 
bull  was  tormented  into  savageness,  and  the  sem 
blance  of  a  bull-fight  took  place,  scores  of  people 
turned  away  in  disgust. 

"  The  finest  equestrianism  could  not  redeem  the 
scene  from  brutality.  The  victims  were  the 
wretched  bull,  a  fine  innocent  horse  badly  gored, 
and  the  people  who  could  not  endure  to  see 
animals  suffer  needlessly.  So  also  in  the  after 
noon  great  skill  was  undoubtedly  manifested  in 


1/4  SANTA   BARBARA 

lassoing  the  feet  of  the  wild  broncho  horses,  and 
in  the  process  of  subduing  them,  yet  one  pitied 
the  poor  creatures  too  greatly  for  enjoyment  and 
soon  turned  away.  The  helpless  beasts  were 
checked  in  full  career,  often  thrown  upon  their 
heads,  turning  a  complete  somersault.  One 
animal,  I  was  told,  broke  its  neck  in  the  opera 
tion,  and  so  escaped  further  suffering.  Such 
scenes,  no  doubt,  illustrated  much  that  was  com 
mon  in  the  life  of  the  early  settlers,  but  happily 
it  is  a  past  phase,  and  will  scarcely  be  reproduced 
again  in  this  region. 

"  It  was  interesting  to  observe  the  many  types 
of  people  in  festival  costume,  the  Indian  in  his 
blanket,  the  Spaniard  wearing  the  broad  som 
brero,  and  the  belle  from  New  York  reflecting 
the  latest  mode.  There  was  movement,  light, 
color,  vivacity,  and  excitement. 

"  Every  moment  or  two  the  eye  caught  glimpses 
of  swift,  spirited  horses  and  their  graceful  riders, 
and  yet  one's  glance  was  often  lured  from  it  all 
to  the  grand,  mist-veiled  mountains  beyond. 
Many  of  the  scenes  and  objects  at  the  pavilion 
were  very  interesting  to  our  foreign  eyes  and 
ears.  Here  Spanish  and  American  life  met  and 
mingled  in  a  far  more  agreeable  way.  Several 
ladies  had  taken  charge  of  the  large  building, 
erected  for  horticultural  purposes,  and  by  the  aid 


SANTA  BARBARA  1/5 

of  greenery,  flowers,  flags,  and  a  blending  of  Span 
ish  and  American  colors,  had  transformed  the 
spacious  interior  into  a  decorated  hall  well  fitted 
for  a  festival.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall  rose  a 
flower  stand  suggesting  Moorish  architecture,  its 
arches  making  fitting  frames  for  the  young  girls 
within.  One  might  buy  flowers,  but  his  eye 
lingered  rather  on  the  fair  flower-girls  in  their 
charming  costumes.  Among  the  booths  was  one 
in  which  some  Spanish  ladies  had  kindly  per 
mitted  to  be  exhibited  some  of  their  ancient  treas 
ures —  velvet  mantles,  embroidered  shawls,  etc. 
Even  to  masculine  eyes  they  were  marvellously 
beautiful,  rich,  and  intricate  in  their  designs. 
The  ladies  stood  before  them  with  clasped  hands 
and  expressed  themselves  in  exclamation  points. 
The  chief  attraction,  however,  was  the  stage,  on 
which  were  tableaux  and,  above  all,  the  genuine 
Spanish  fandango.  One  of  the  dances  was  a 
waltz,  with  an  intricate  figure  which  you  felt 
might  go  on  forever,  and  that  you  could  look  on 
a  good  part  of  the  time.  At  first  it  struck  one 
as  merely  simple,  graceful,  and  very  slow,  and 
guided  by  monotonous  music;  but  while  you 
looked  and  listened  a  fascination  grew  upon  you 
hard  to  account  for.  The  oft-repeated  strain 
began  to  repeat  itself  in  your  mind;  you  felt 
rather  than  saw  how  it  controlled  the  leisurely 


1/6  SANTA   BARBARA 

gliding  figures  —  for  there  is  no  hopping  in  the 
Spanish  dances  —  until  at  last,  in  fancy,  you  were 
moving  with  them  in  perfect  time  and  step.  In 
brief,  the  dance  had  the  effect  of  a  strain  of  music 
which,  when  first  heard,  is  not  at  all  striking,  yet 
is  soon  running  in  your  head  as  if  it  had  a  spell 
not  easily  broken.  On  the  programme  the  dance 
was  entitled  '  Contra  Danza. '  Later  a  Spaniard 
who  has  a  wide  local  reputation,  I  believe,  ap 
peared  in  what  was  termed  '  Son-jarabe. '  He 
certainly  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  his  per 
formance  after  his  fashion,  but  the  grace  of  the 
lady  who  accompanied  was  inimitable.  From  my 
somewhat  distant  point  of  view  she  appeared  to 
be  dressed  in  a  simple  black  gown  and  wore  no 
ornaments.  She  needed  none.  No  bespangled 
dancer  I  ever  saw  so  enchained  my  eyes.  One 
would  almost  think  that  an  orange,  placed  upon 
her  head,  would  not  fall  off,  and  yet  a  more  utter 
absence  of  stiffness  in  movement  was  never  wit 
nessed.  She  seemed  ever  approaching,  yet  ever 
receding  from,  her  companion;  a  moment  near, 
then  far  away,  gliding  to  one  side  or  the  other, 
as  if  impossible  to  be  reached  in  her  coquetry  of 
elusive  grace.  Each  separate  movement  was 
called  out  in  Spanish,  and  in  a  varied,  half- 
musical  accent  not  easily  described. 

"At  the  closing  centennial  ball  like  dances  were 


SANTA  BARBARA  177 

repeated,  the  participants  wearing  Spanish  cos 
tumes.  Here  we  had  a  nearer  and  more  distinct 
view  of  the  fandango.  We  again  saw  the  '  Con 
tra  Danza,'  and  another,  even  more  intricate, 
that  was  as  odd  as  it  was  full  of  grace  and  unex 
pected  action.  If  '  La  Jota '  is  an  old  dance,  it 
should  certainly  take  the  place  of  many  that  have 
little  to  redeem  them  from  commonplace,  if  not 
worse. 

"  Son-jarabe  was  again  repeated  to  the  pleasure 
of  all,  and  especially  of  the  Spaniards,  who,  in 
conformance  with  an  old  custom,  expressed  their 
satisfaction  by  raining  silver  down  upon  the  floor 
from  the  gallery.  There  was  the  same  weird 
intoning  by  the  master  of  ceremonies,  calling  off 
the  different  measures ;  the  same  constantly  recur 
ring  strains  of  music  that  haunted  one  long  after 
ward,  and  the  same  slow  yet  singularly  graceful 
movement  of  the  dancers.  All  were  in  Spanish 
costume,  although  many  American  young  men  and 
maidens  were  also  participants,  yet  had  been 
taught  so  well  by  their  Spanish  friends  that  they 
were  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  them. 
The  Spanish  dances  that  I  saw  did  not  strike  me 
as  at  all  voluptuous,  and  no  one  appeared  who  was 
not  dressed  in  accordance  with  the  strictest  ideas 
of  decorum.  The  whole  pageant  passed  away 
with  the  ball,  and  nothing  remains  to  remind  us 

12 


1 78  SANTA  BARBARA 

of  the  centennial  but  the  green  arch  spanning 
State  Street.  The  old  Mission  stands  out  gray 
and  silent,  except  that  its  bells  occasionally  chime 
out  for  reasons  unknown  to  me." 

Writing  again,  in  April,  my  brother  describes 
the  change  wrought  by  the  first  heavy  rainfall  of 
the  season. 

"  One  of  the  drawbacks  to  Santa  Barbara  is  the 
dust,  and  it  is  a  disagreeable  accompaniment  of  a 
dry  climate  which  must  be  accepted.  Towards 
the  end  of  January  there  were  occasionally  high, 
gusty  winds  which  reminded  one  of  March  experi 
ences  at  home.  At  times  the  dust  rose  in  clouds 
and  obscured  the  city,  and  to  my  taste  the  wildest 
snowstorm  would  be  preferable  to  these  chilling, 
stifling  tempests.  They  were  not  frequent  or 
long  continued,  however,  and  the  old  inhabitants 
said  they  presaged  rain,  the  great  bounty  for 
which  the  whole  State  was  longing. 

"A rainless  winter  is  a  terrible  misfortune,  and 
when  February  finds  the  ground  hard  and  dry 
there  is  deep  and  natural  anxiety. 

"  In  one  dry  season,  years  ago,  forty  thousand 
head  of  cattle  perished.  With  present  means  of 
communication  this  probably  would  not  happen 
again,  but  a  check  would  be  given  to  budding 


SANTA  BARBARA  179 

prosperity  which  would  take  several  fruitful  years 
to  overcome.  There  were  scores  of  people  hesi 
tating  whether  to  buy  or  build  who  would  decide 
favorably  if  the  usual  rainfall  occurred.  When, 
therefore,  on  the  5th  the  first  storm  of  the  season 
set  in,  rejoicing  and  congratulations  were  general. 
Seldom  before  have  I  so  realized  what  a  heaven 
ly  bounty  rain  is.  The  whole  population  were 
hoping,  waiting,  longing,  and  one  would  be  callous 
indeed  not  to  sympathize.  For  that  matter,  the 
interests  of  temporary  visitors  were  also  deeply 
involved,  as  may  be  illustrated  by  the  pleasure  I 
had  in  watching  from  my  study  window  the  bare, 
brown  foothills  become  greener  daily.  With 
intervals,  designed,  it  would  seem,  to  give  the 
parched  earth  time  to  take  in  the  precious  mois 
ture,  the  rains  continued  for  about  ten  days.  At 
last  there  was  a  steady  down-pour  for  nearly 
twenty-four  hours,  and  then  dawned  a  morning 
that  for  brightness,  clearness,  and  beauty  left 
nothing  to  be  imagined.  The  birds  were  fairly 
ecstatic  in  their  rejoicings  and  nature  seemed  to 
be  tripping  forth  like  a  young  girl  to  her  work. 
It  may  be  that  she  will  have  to  perfect  most  of  the 
products  of  the  earth  without  another  drop  of  rain, 
and  she  will  prove  equal  to  the  task. 

"  A  fruitful  year  in  this  section  does  not  depend 
on  seasonable  storms  and  showers,  as  with  us,  but 


l8o  SANTA  BARBARA 

upon  the  number  of  inches  of  the  winter  rainfall, 
the  soil  retaining  sufficient  moisture  to  carry  the 
crops  through  in  safety.  Many  tourists  came 
in  the  height  of  the  storm  and  some  had  a  hard 
time  of  it.  The  hotels  were  crowded,  and  not  a 
few,  miserably  seasick,  were  driven  from  house  to 
house  in  pouring  rain  searching  for  rooms.  Ex 
cept  on  State  Street  the  highways  of  the  city  are 
little  more  than  country  roads,  the  bottom  of 
which,  as  in  Virginia,  seems  to  have  fallen  out. 
One  stage  load  was  spilled  into  the  mud  and  no 
doubt  carried  away  sinister  memories  of  "sunny 
Santa  Barbara."  The  weather,  which  was  the 
salvation  of  the  country,  was  well  anathematized 
by  transient  visitors,  and  one  lady  was  overheard 
to  remark  that  she  had  seen  the  first  of  the  place 
and  hoped  that  she  had  seen  the  last.  Thus  judg 
ments  and  opinions  are  formed.  Those  who  re 
mained  and  saw  the  exquisite  phases  of  spring 
rapidly  developing  under  the  vivid  sunshine  would 
be  in  no  hurry  to  see  the  last  of  Santa  Barbara, 
and  a  more  perfect  summer  morning  has  rarely 
been  seen  than  dawned  on  the  last  day  of  the 
month. " 


CHAPTER   XIII 

RETURN   TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

I  SPENT  the  summer  of  1887  with  Edward 
and  his  family  at  Santa  Barbara;  and  he  left 
me  there  in  September  on  his  return  to  his  home 
at  Cornwall.  He  expected  to  come  back  during 
the  winter  of  1889;  and  just  a  week  before  his 
sudden  death,  while  I  was  at  the  Western  Chati- 
tauqua,  near  Monterey,  I  had  my  last  letter  from 
him,  telling  of  his  plans  for  a  California  story 
which  he  hoped  to  write  when  once  more  at  Santa 
Barbara. 

That  evening,  Major-General  O.  O.  Howard 
gave  a  lecture  upon  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg,  and 
at  its  close  I  had  some  conversation  with  him,  in 
the  course  of  which  I  spoke  of  the  letter  just 
received.  He  had  been  well  acquainted  with  my 
brother  at  West  Point.  I  remember  his  saying 
at  this  time :  "  I  gave  a  copy  of  '  A  Knight  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  '  to  a  young  man  about 
whose  course  of  life  I  felt  great  anxiety,  and  that 
book,  he  wrote  me,  was  the  means  of  his  entire 
reformation. " 


182         RETURN  TO  CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

This  is  but  one  of  many  similar  instances  that 
came  before  me  personally  during  my  sojourn  in 
the  West. 

At  the  time  of  Edward's  departure  from  Santa 
Barbara  he  had  engaged  to  write  a  story  for 
Harper's  Magazine  which  should  be  a  sequel  to 
"Nature's  Serial,"  and  which  was  to  be  fully 
illustrated  by  Mr.  William  Hamilton  Gibson.  It 
was  therefore  necessary  for  him  to  be  near  the 
scenes  of  his  proposed  story  and  in  easy  commu 
nication  with  Mr.  Gibson. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  print  here  the 
following  letters.  Many  of  them  are  separated 
by  long  intervals  of  time  and  have  no  direct  con 
nection  with  each  other,  but  they  are  expressive 
of  the  warm  friendship  that  existed  between  my 
brother  and  the  talented  artist. 

"  SANTA  BARBARA,  July  17,  1887. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  GIBSON,  —  The  longer  I  re 
main  here  and  the  more  I  see  of  this  region  the 
oftener  I  think  of  you :  and  the  more  earnestly  I 
am  bent  on  your  coming  here  with  your  sketch 
book. 

"The  scenery  is  just  in  your  line,  yet  different 
from  any  thing  you  have  yet  done.  Phew !  what 
a  book  we  could  make  together  out  here.  During 
the  past  week  Mrs.  Roe  and  I  went  over  the 


RETURN  TO  CORNWALL  —  LETTERS         183 

Santa  Ynez  Mountains,  and  I  wished  for  you  at 
every  turn  of  the  San  Marcus  Pass.  Then  there 
are  scores  of  these,  with  beautiful  canons.  But  I 
will  tell  you  about  them  in  September,  when  I 
hope  to  see  you. 

"  I  expect  to  give  much  of  September  and  all  of 
October  to  the  study  of  the  Highlands,  and  only 
wish  you  can  so  arrange  as  to  be  with  me  as  much 
as  possible. 

"  I  've  been  toiling  over  the  Earthquake  story, 
and  while  you  and  the  critics  will  say  it  is  no 
great  '  shakes, '  I  shall  have  to  remember  how 
the  mountain  labored.  I  have  at  least  a  month's 
more  work  upon  it,  and  am  giving  up  the  whole 
of  my  time  to  it,  now  that  I  am  in  the  mood  for 
writing. 

"How  are  you  enjoying  the  summer,  and  are 
you  very  busy  ? 

"Lucky you  did  not  get  into  that  fight  with  the 
Park  Commissioners  during  your  July  heats.  If 
you  had  there  would  have  been  some  '  ha'r  lifted, ' 
as  they  say  out  on  the  plains.  You  would  make  a 
better  subject  for  a  scalping-knife  than  I.  Have 
you  seen  much  of  Mr.  Alden  ?  He  sent  me  two 
fine  photographs  of  himself  recently. 

"  I  trust  that  Mrs.  Gibson  and  the  boy  are 
keeping  well  through  the  intense  heat  of  which 
we  read  in  the  papers.  This  climate  surpasses 


1 84         RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

anything  I  ever  imagined.  We  have  had  but 
one  hot  day  thus  far.  July  has  been  delightfully 
cool,  about  the  same  as  last  December,  with  the 
exception  that  the  evenings  and  nights  are  a  little 
warmer.  The  sea-bathing  is  superb.  Mrs.  Roe 
and  all  five  children  are  enjoying  it  this  afternoon. 
"  Yours  sincerely,  E.  P.  ROE." 

"  WASHINGTON,  Conn.,  September,  1887. 

"  Hurrah !  Hurrah  !  Welcome  home,  one  and 
all !  Such  is  the  burden  of  my  emotions  as  I 
read  in  to-day's  paper  that  Mr.  Roe,  the  Roe- 
manser,  has  returned  to  civilization  from  the 
Santa  Barbarans,  and  is  once  more  at  '  Shanty 
Clear.' 

"  Seriously,  I  am  immensely  delighted  that  you 
are  once  more  with  us,  and  shall  look  forward  to 
an  early  meeting.  And  now  apropos  —  we,  my 
wife  and  I,  have  enjoyed  many  a  memorable  season 
of  pleasure  at  your  country  home.  Can  we  not 
persuade  you  and  Mrs.  Roe  to  give  us  a  visit  at 
ours  ?  for  here  is  my  favorite  camping  ground  and 
my  home  acre.  As  soon  as  you  feel  sufficiently 
rested  from  your  trip,  and  providing  you  are  so 
disposed,  will  you  make  us  happy  by  spending  a 
few  days  with  us?  —  that  is  if  you  still  remember 
your  neglectful  correspondent  and  care  to  hob 
nob  with  him  as  of  yore. 


RETURN  TO   CORNWALL — LETTERS          185 

"That  proposed  Highland  trip  is  immensely 
tempting,  and  I  shall  hope  to  arrange  to  take  a  few 
days  outing  with  you,  but  alas!  it  cannot  be  until 
early  November  or  the  very  last  of  October.  I 
am  so  full  of  obligations  until  then. 

"Don't  call  this  a  letter.  It  is  written  in  the 
face  of  a  yawning  mail-bag  and  must  be  judged 
accordingly. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"GIBSON." 

Mr.  Gibson's  own  work  was  so  pressing  that 
autumn  that  he  was  unable  to  spare  the  time  for 
the  Highland  trip  mentioned  in  his  letter,  when 
many  of  the  sketches  were  to  be  made  for  the 
projected  story.  The  remaining  letters  are  from 
my  brother  to  Mr.  Gibson. 

"December  15,  1880. 

"  Some  one  rang  at  my  door  to-day  —  he  must 
be  nigh  of  kin  to  Santa  Claus  —  and  left  your 
superb  volume.  It  almost  took  away  my  breath. 

"I  gave  you  '  Small  Fruits  '  only.  But  the 
fruits  of  your  pencil  and  pen  are  the  reverse  of 
small. 

"Do  you  realize  what  a  benefactor  you  are  in 
sending  me,  on  this  dull  cloudy  day,  exquisites  of 
the  finest  seasons  of  the  year  ?  Spring  is  months 
away,  but  I  have  had  the  sweetest  glimpse  of 


1 86        RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

spring  beside  my  winter  fire.  The  blazing  wood 
supplied  the  warmth, — and  your  fancy  did  the 
rest  in  reproducing  June. 

"  I  am  deeply  in  your  debt.  Draw  on  me  for 
unlimited  quantities  of  strawberries." 

"AprUi6,  1882. 

"I  was  determined  to  find  you  a  four-leaf 
clover,  and  yesterday  I  succeeded. 

"  It  will  bring  you  no  end  of  good  luck. " 

"January  31,  1884. 

"  Don't  worry  when  you  are  not  in  writing  con 
dition.  If  needful  you  can  drop  a  postal  now  and 
then.  The  best  way  is  to  come  up  Saturday  night 
and  have  a  talk.  You  need  a  little  change  and 
mountain  air. 

"  I  am  writing  by  this  mail  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dielman  to  come  at  the  same  time.  Why  would 
it  not  be  a  good  plan  to  get  together  and  talk  over 
the  completion  of  the  story  and  take  a  sleigh 
ride  ? 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  a  little  change  freshens 
one  up,  and  if  you  can  spend  Sunday  and  Monday 
we  will  all  have  a  country  frolic.  I  need  one 
myself.  I  have  been  over-working  and  was  very 
ill  from  nervous  trouble  for  a  few  days.  I  went 
right  to  Nature,  tramped  and  rode  in  the  open  air. 


RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS         187 

So  come  Saturday  by  all  means,  for  we  all  want  to 
see  you. 

"  Beautiful  red-pine  grosbeaks  are  feeding  about 
the  piazza,  like  chickens.  With  your  powers  you 
could  go  and  pick  them  up. " 

"December  13,  1884. 

"  I  should  have  written  to  you  or  seen  you  be 
fore,  but  I  have  been  working  hard  to  get  the  St. 
Nicholas  serial  well  advanced. 

"  My  heart  is  in  the  continuation  of  '  Nature's 
Serial.'  Take  the  press  generally,  that  book  is 
being  received  remarkably  well.  I  tell  you 
frankly  my  aim  now  is  to  prepare  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  books  that  has  ever  been  published  in 
this  country.  From  what  Dielman  has  said  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  he'll  go  in  with  me.  I 
also  mentioned  Mr.  Frost  to  Alden  and  I  shall 
also  go  see  Mrs.  Foote.  It  is  possible  she  may 
be  willing  to  take  a  part  of  the  illustrations. 

"  But  I  shall  be  heartbroken  if  you  cannot  take 
the  part  of  Hamlet  in  the  performance.  If  you 
will,  you  can  make  old  Cro'nest  and  Storm  King 
your  monuments,  and  few  will  pass  up  or  down 
the  river  without  mentioning  your  name. 

"  I  shall  begin  to  make  my  studies  in  January. 
In  the  meantime  it  will  be  a  summer  story, 
although  I  expect  to  close  it  at  Christmas,  and  it 


1 88        RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

will  be  full  of  just  such  material  as  suits  your 
pencil. 

"  I  would  like  at  least  four  illustrations  for  each 
number,  as  many  full-paged  as  possible. 

"  Mrs.  Roe  joins  me  in  regards  to  Mrs.  Gibson. " 

"December  29,  1884. 

"What  can  I  say  to  you?  How  make  you 
appreciate  how  greatly  we  appreciate  and  value  your 
beautiful  remembrance  ?  We  all  went  into  ecsta 
sies  over  the  picture,  which  arrived  in  perfect 
safety.  It  should  have  gone  into  the  book  if  I 
had  seen  it  before,  and  had  had  any  influence. 
As  it  is,  it  rounds  out  '  Nature's  Serial '  to  my 
mind,  and  leaves  it  a  past  experience  without 
alloy,  except  as  I  remember  the  imperfection  of 
my  own  work.  Can  you  wonder  at  my  desire  to 
be  at  work  with  you  again  some  day  ? 

"But  we  will  leave  that  for  the  present,  as  you 
say,  I  living  in  hopes  that  the  way  will  open  for 
you  to  explore  the  Highlands  with  me,  and  to 
reveal  their  beauties  to  the  public  far  better  than 
I  can.  You  see  Nature  as  I  do,  only  you  inter 
pret  it  to  me,  and  make  it  more  beautiful  than  the 
reality  appears. 

"  I  will  have  the  picture  framed  as  you  suggest, 
and  when  you  soon  come  to  Cornwall  again  it  will 
greet  you  from  an  honored  place  in  our  parlor. 


RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS          189 

"  Mrs.  Roe  and  the  girls,  with  our  guests,  were 
as  greatly  pleased  as  myself. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Drake  also  sent  us  a  beautiful 
bit  of  art.  I  am  just  delighted  with  the  way  Mr. 
Drake  is  taking  hold  of  my  St.  Nicholas  serial. 
I  send  the  magazine  for  the  year  to  W.  H. 
Gibson,  Jr. 

"  You  did  indeed  win  a  victory  over  the  '  incre- 
mentitious  '  critic.  I  should  think  he  would 
wish  to  crawl  into  a  small  hole,  and  '  pull  the  hole 
in  after  him.'  Indeed  you  are  triumphing  over 
all  your  critics,  and  winning  your  rightful  place. 
I  knew  this  would  be  true  years  ago,  because  of 
your  own  truth  to  Nature. 

"  Such  an  experience  may  never  come  to  me, 
probably  because  I  do  not  deserve  it,  but  I  am 
content  to  make  some  warm  friends,  like  the 
writer  of  the  enclosed  letter.  If  what  some  of 
my  critics  say  is  true,  a  good  many  people  who 
write  and  speak  to  me  are  awful  and  unnecessary 
liars. 

"  I  enjoyed  your  triumph  as  greatly  as  if  it  were 
my  own.  It  was  the  neatest  thrust  under  the  fifth 
rib  I  ever  saw,  and  I  fear  I  shall  never  have 
enough  Christian  meekness  not  to  enjoy  seeing  a 
fellow  receive  his  congt  when  so  well  deserved. 
Dr.  Abbott  and  I  took  part  in  the  '  wake '  up  here. 

"That  the  coming  year  may  be  the  most  pros- 


IQO         RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

perous  and  happy  that  you  and  yours  have  ever 
known  is  the  wish  of  your  sincere  friend." 

"February  17,  1885. 

"  I  have  made  arrangements  with  the  best  guide 
of  the  Highlands,  one  who  knows  every  lake, 
pond,  road,  peak,  man,  woman,  child,  and  dog  in 
the  mountains. 

"We  start  out  on  our  first  explorations  the 
latter  part  of  May,  when  Nature  is  in  her  loveliest 
mood.  Say  you  '11  go.  —  I  think  the  whole  serial 
can  be  finished  by  October.  You  and  Mrs.  Gib 
son  can  get  excellent  board  at  Cornwall.  Thus 
you  will  identify  yourself  with  the  Hudson  as  you 
have  with  New  England.  I  expect  by  then  to 
have  finished  my  St.  Nicholas  story  and  then 
will  have  the  decks  cleared  for  action.  Our 
regards  to  Mrs.  Gibson  and  the  baby." 

"  March  18,  1885. 

"I  went  down  to  attend  Mr.  Cyrus  Field's 
reception.  The  trains  were  so  delayed  that  I  was 
nearly  all  day  getting  to  the  city. 

"  Well,  I  met  Mr.  Stoddard,  and  spent  a  pleas 
ant  hour  with  him  at  the  Century  Club  on  the 
evening  of  March  7th.  He  asked  to  be  intro 
duced  to  me,  and  I  remarked  '  that  I  was  sur 
prised  that  he  would  take  such  a  literary  sinner 


RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS         191 

by  the  hand. '  He  replied,  '  We  are  a  pair  of 
them. '  We  chatted  pleasantly  a  few  moments  in 
the  supper-room,  and  then  he  concluded,  '  Well, 
you  are  a  good  fellow  to  forgive  me. ' 

"  Some  time  after  he  asked  me  to  go  upstairs 
with  him,  and  we  had  a  smoke  together.  I  intro 
duced  him  to  Colonel  Michee  of  West  Point,  who 
is  about  to  publish  a  book. 

"  Stoddard  gave  me  his  autograph  unsolicited, 
written  with  his  left  hand  and  then  backwards. 
I  told  him  that  I  was  glad  he  appreciated  you. 
We  had  a  long,  merry  talk,  and  in  his  conversa 
tion  he  said  he  would  be  very  glad  to  have  a  copy 
of  '  Nature's  Serial '  with  your,  Dielman's,  and  my 
autographs.  This  request  was  wholly  unsug- 
gested,  and  he  truly  appeared  to  wish  the  book. 
Therefore,  when  you  are  at  Harper's  will  you 
write  your  name  on  the  fly-leaf,  and  then  ask 
them  to  express  the  book  to  me?  I  will  get  Diel 
man's  autograph.  Altogether  it  was  a  spicy  in 
terview.  I  received  that  eulogy  of  your  work  in 
the  Boston  paper,  and  had  said  the  same  in  sub 
stance  to  two  or  three  of  Harper's  firm  before." 

"  September  16,  1887. 

"  Your  hat  in  the  air  was  almost  as  inspiring 
as  the  sight  of  old  Storm  King. 

"  It  was  very  pleasant  to  be  welcomed,  and  the 


IQ2         RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS 

day  after  my  arrival  I  had  to  shake  hands  with 
nearly  every  man,  woman  and  child,  white  and 
black,  that  I  met. 

"  Mrs.  Roe  took  cold  before  we  started  on  the 
long  trip,  and  has  been  very  ill ;  is  so  yet,  though 
she  is  gaining  now  steadily.  I  do  not  know 
when  I  can  see  you. 

"I  long  for  the  quiet  of  home  life.  It  will 
require  a  sheriff  and  his  posse  to  get  me  out  of 
the  house  again.  Put  down  your  promise  to  visit 
me  and  tramp  the  Highlands  in  big  capitals. 
If  you  should  be  in  town  and  have  a  spare  night 
come  up  here  for  a  smoke  and  talk. " 

"January  i,  1888. 

"Thanks  for  your  letter.  It  was  almost  as 
long  as  mine. 

"  I  spent  most  of  *  watch-night '  on  old  Storm 
King  with  my  children  and  Mr.  Denton.  We 
expected  some  other  friends,  who  were  detained 
by  the  storm.  Coasting  in  a  snowstorm  proved 
very  agreeable  after  all,  especially  as  the  road 
was  lined  with  torches.  The  sleighs  went  like 
express-trains,  and  I  was  glad  to  get  all  safe 
home  to  the  oyster  supper  which  Mrs.  Roe  had 
ready  for  us  as  the  old  year  took  its  departure. 

"  I  have  amused  myself  in  watching  old  Storm 
King,  that  in  the  wild  rain  has  been  taking  on 


RETURN  TO   CORNWALL  —  LETTERS         193 

many  aspects.  We  have  had  a  sort  of  family 
holiday  with  the  few  friends  coming  and  going, 
and  I  have  enjoyed  all,  seeing  the  children  have 
a  good  time. 

"  I  have  had  so  much  work  on  hand  that  I  had 
to  keep  busy  the  greater  part  of  each  day. 

"I  suppose  your  little  boy  has  enjoyed  the 
season  immensely.  Does  he  still  believe  in 
Santa  Claus,  or  have  you  and  Mrs.  Gibson,  in 
the  interest  of  truth  (see  discussion  in  papers), 
felt  bound  to  explain  that  you  filled  his  stocking 
with  articles  bought  at  a  certain  store?  My  little 
girl  is  still  considering  how  in  the  mischief  the 
old  fellow  got  down  the  chimney. 

"The  sleighing  is  all  gone.  When  it  comes 
again  we  want  you  and  Mrs.  Gibson  to  take  some 
mountain  rides  with  us. 

"  Happy  New  Year  to  you  all. " 

But  other  literary  friends  besides  Mr.  Hamil 
ton  Gibson  were  welcome  guests  at  Edward's 
Cornwall  home ;  among  them  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
R.  H.  Stoddard,  Mr.  John  Burroughs,  Mr.  Sted- 
man,  Mr.  Alden,  of  Harper's  Magazine,  and  Mr. 
Julian  Hawthorne. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

LAST  BOOK— DEATH 

DURING  the  winter  of  1887-88  Edward  wrote 
his  last  book,  "  Miss  Lou,"  a  tale  of  South 
ern  life  during  the  Civil  War.  In  the  spring  he 
went  down  to  Virginia  to  visit  some  scenes  he 
wished  to  describe,  and  while  there  had  a  slight 
attack  of  neuralgia  of  the  heart.  The  physician 
he  called  in  ordered  him  to  return  home  at  once, 
and  rest  for  a  time. 

In  June  he  seemed  to  have  completely  re 
covered  his  health,  and  sent  his  usual  invitation 
to  the  Philolethean  Club  of  New  York  clergy 
men,  who  then  made  their  eighteenth  and  last 
visit. 

On  the  i  Qth  of  July,  however,  my  brother  com 
plained  during  the  day  of  not  feeling  very  well, 
although  he  walked  about  the  grounds  inspecting 
his  plants  as  was  his  custom.  After  dinner,  in 
the  evening,  he  sat  in  his  library  reading  aloud 
from  one  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  works  to  his 
daughter  and  one  of  her  young  friends.  Sud- 


LAST  BOOK  — DEATH  195 

denly  he  paused,  placed  his  hand  over  his  heart, 
and  said,  "  There  comes  that  sharp  pain  again.  I 
shall  have  to  go  upstairs  to  my  wife  for  some 
remedy."  But  he  left  the  room  with  a  smile. 
After  he  had  taken  the  remedy,  which  did  not 
give  relief,  his  wife  sent  in  haste  for  a  physician, 
who  as  soon  as  he  arrived  saw  there  was  no  hope 
of  my  brother's  recovery.  After  about  forty  min 
utes  of  extreme  agony,  Edward  seemed  to  feel 
relieved,  rose  to  his  feet,  and  attempted  to  cross 
the  room,  but  turned  quickly  toward  his  wife 
with  a  look  of  surprise  and  joy,  exclaiming,  "O 
my  God ! "  — then  fell  lifeless  to  the  floor. 

At  the  age  of  fifty,  in  the  full  vigor  of  man 
hood,  his  earthly  career  came  to  an  end.  His 
funeral  was  held  in  the  little  church  at  Cornwall, 
where  he  had  first  consecrated  his  life  to  the  ser 
vice  of  Christ,  and  where  he  and  his  family  had 
worshipped  for  so  many  years. 

Then  he  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  quiet  graveyard 
on  a  beautiful  knoll  overlooking  the  Hudson, 
beside  his  parents  and  his  own  baby  boy. 

Only  a  little  earlier  in  that  month,  and  just 
three  weeks  before  his  death,  Edward  invited  the 
Authors'  Club,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  to 
spend  a  day  at  his  Highland  home. 

These  lines  were  written  in  acceptance  by  Mr. 
E.  C.  Stedman  :  — 


196  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

"  Know'st  thou  the  bank  where  '  Triumph  de  Gands  'are  red 
(My  books  might  be  were  I  on  berries  fed)  ; 
Where  Cro'nest  lowers  and  Hudson  laughs  below  it, 
And  welcome  waits  each  editor  or  poet  ? 
Know'st  thou  in  fact  the  realm  of  E.  P.  Roe  ? 
Hither,  O  hither,  will  I  go." 

I  insert  here  several  accounts  of  this  last  meet 
ing,  written  after  my  brother's  death  by  members 
of  the  Club  who  were  present. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  E.  P.  Roe  twice. 
The  first  time  was  in  May,  1888,  at  the  Authors' 
Club  in  New  York.  It  was  a  balmy  spring 
evening.  I  had  strolled  into  the  club-rooms  feel 
ing  rather  lonesome  among  so  many  strangers,  for 
I  was  then  a  new  member  of  the  Club,  and,  stop 
ping  at  the  table  to  admire  a  great  basketful  of 
apple-blossoms,  I  fell  into  conversation  with  a 
tall,  fine-looking,  genial-faced  gentleman,  who 
told  me  that  he  had  just  brought  the  flowers  down 
from  his  farm  on  the  Hudson  for  '  the  boys. '  I 
was  mentally  guessing  who  this  gentleman  with 
the  noble  brow  and  the  black  flowing  beard  could 
be,  when  some  one  approached  and  called  him 
'  Roe. '  We  were  soon  left  alone  again,  and  I 
hastened  to  say :  *  Have  I  the  honor  of  speaking 
to  E.  P.  Roe  ? '  Placing  a  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  bending  near  me  with  a  kindly  smile,  he 
answered  :  '  I  am  E.  P.  Roe ;  and  may  I  ask  your 


LAST  BOOK — DEATH  197 

name?'  Finding  that  I  was  from  the  South,  he 
seemed  to  be  especially  glad  of  my  acquaintance, 
and  we  were  soon  off  in  a  corner,  seated  face  to 
face,  he  asking  questions  fast,  and  with  the  great 
est  interest,  and  I  answering  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  concerning  the  war  history  and  the  moun 
tain  scenery  of  my  native  State.  He  was  partic 
ularly  anxious  to  get  at  the  exact  social  relation 
between  the  whites  and  blacks  at  the  close  of  the 
war  —  especially  the  feeling  of  the  blacks  toward 
the  whites  —  with  a  view  of  making  correct  state 
ments  in  a  novel  that  he  thought  of  writing. 
Each  member  of  the  Club  soon  wore  an  apple- 
blossom  boutonnttre,  and  the  rooms  were  full  of 
the  delicate  perfume  of  these  delicious  flowers. 
That  night,  on  leaving  the  Club,  I  took  home 
with  me  a  spray  of  the  blossoms,  and  put  it  in 
water,  and  on  the  following  day  it  shed  its  fra 
grance  for  the  pleasure  of  one  who  was  then  an 
invalid.  In  her  name  I  wrote  Mr.  Roe  a  note  of 
thanks  for  the  flowers,  and  I  received  from  him 
a  characteristic  reply.  He  wrote :  — 

"'.  .  .  I  was  delighted  that  my  hastily  gathered 
apple-blossoms  gave  such  pleasure  to  your  wife. 
How  little  it  costs  to  bestow  a  bit  of  bright 
ness  here  and  there,  if  we  only  think  about 
doing  it! ' 

"  The  Authors'  Club  was  invited  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 


198  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

Roe  to  spend  Saturday,  the  i6th  of  June,  at  their 
home  near  Cornwall-on-Hudson,  where  we  were 
cordially  promised  a  feast  of  strawberries  and 
pleasant  outdoor  pastimes.  The  day  was  a  per 
fect,  a  happy,  and  a  memorable  one  to  all  who 
accepted  the  hospitality  of  the  novelist.  He  met 
us  at  the  river  landing  with  a  hearty  hand-shake 
and  a  word  of  welcome  for  each  guest,  and  person 
ally  conducted  us  to  carriages  which  had  been 
provided  to  convey  us  to  his  farmhouse,  which  we 
soon  found  to  be  an  ideal  home  of  unpretentious 
elegance.  At  luncheon  our  host  addressed  us, 
begging  us  to  lay  aside  all  formality,  and  get  all 
the  pleasure  possible  from  his  fruits  and  flowers, 
green  grass  and  cooling  shade.  The  strawberries 
in  his  patch  were  enormous,  and  each  visitor  to 
the  vines  in  turn  found  Roe  at  his  side,  parting 
the  leaves  for  him,  and  showing  him  where  to 
pick  the  finest  specimens.  He  was  ubiquitous 
that  day.  If  one  strolled  off  among  the  myriad 
roses,  and  stopped  to  pluck  a  bud,  he  found  the 
shapely  hand  of  the  farmer-author  pulling  for 
him  a  more  beautiful  one.  If  you  flung  yourself 
on  the  grass  to  dream  awhile,  Roe  was  lying 
down  by  you,  telling  you  how  happy  this  union 
of  friends  made  him  feel. 

"  The  day  wore  on  to  sunset,  when  a  dance,  to 
the  music  of  banjos,  was  improvised  on  the  lawn, 


LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH  1 99 

the  banjos  being  played  by  some  handsome 
youths  in  lawn-tennis  attire,  who,  with  their 
gayly  beribboned  instruments,  made  a  pretty 
scene.  Roe  clapped  his  hands  with  delight  as  he 
moved  from  group  to  group.  I  heard  him  say, 
'  How  often  will  I  recall  this  scene !  I  can  bring 
you  all  back  here  just  as  you  are  now,  whenever 
I  want  to. '  His  wife  and  daughters  were  unceas 
ing  in  gracious  attentions  to  their  guests. 

"  When  the  time  for  parting  arrived,  and  the  car 
riages  were  drawn  up,  Mr.  Roe  hurried  from  one 
to  another  of  us,  begging  each  and  all  not  to  go, 
assuring  us  of  ample  accommodation  if  we  would 
stay  over  night.  A  few  remained,  and  those 
who  left  did  so  reluctantly,  some  of  them,  I  am 
sure,  quite  sorrowfully.  I  remember  wondering  at 
myself  for  being  overcome  by  such  a  feeling  of 
sadness  as  I  waved  the  family  a  last  farewell  from 
the  departing  carriage.  I  had  said  good-by  to 
the  famous  writer  as  we  came  down  the  broad 
steps  of  his  vine-covered  veranda,  he  with  his  arm 
about  my  waist. 

"  Never  lived  a  more  lovable  and  kindlier  man 
than  E.  P.  Roe ;  and  when,  soon  after  that  golden 
day,  I  read  one  morning  of  his  sudden  death,  my 
heart  welled  up  with  tears  over  the  bereavement 
of  that  stricken  household  in  the  shadow  of  old 
Storm  King;  yet  I  felt  that  their  grief  must  be 


200  LAST   BOOK  —  DEATH 

illumined   by   the  pure   light  that  hallowed  the 
name  '  of  him  who  uttered  nothing  base. ' ' 

"ELROD  BURKE." 

"  I  fancy  there  are  few  of  those  active,  tireless 
Americans,  who,  nevertheless,  steal  time  from 
their  business  to  read  many  newspapers  and  many 
books,  who  have  heard  of  an  association  of  men 
in  New  York  called  the  Authors'  Club.  Authors, 
in  their  eyes,  are  apt  to  seem  like  inhabitants  of  a 
world  apart,  a  world  separated  by  a  broad  boun 
dary  from  the  sphere  of  average  commercial  labor. 
Authors  are,  as  it  were,  abstractions ;  they  are 
heard  and  not  seen.  They  are  heard  through 
their  books,  which  are  the  concrete  essence  of 
themselves;  yet  the  author  is,  after  all,  an  ex 
tremely  concrete  personage,  who  strives  as  hard 
as  anyone  for  his  living,  and  whose  reward  is 
seldom  commensurate  with  his  efforts.  It  is  the 
exceptional  great  man  of  literature  —  the  great 
author  being  a  better  illustration  than  the  small 
one — who  is  lucky  enough  to  enjoy  felicity  during 
his  lifetime. 

"But  I  did  not  start  out  here  to  make  the  old 
argument  —  which  has  been  so  often  a  fanciful 
and  sentimental  argument  —  against  literature  as 
a  remunerative  profession.  My  idea  was  a  simple 
one :  To  assume  that  authors  are  more  generally 


LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH  2OI 

hidden  from  public  view  than  almost  any  other 
class  of  men,  and  that,  for  this  reason  especially, 
the  least  important  bit  of  gossip  touching  the 
private  doings,  goings,  and  sayings  of  authors 
interests,  without  question,  a  very  large  number 
of  people.  The  writer  of  a  famous  novel  or  poem 
may  walk  the  length  of  Broadway,  yet  remain 
absolutely  a  stranger  to  the  crowd  among  whom 
he  walks.  A  nobody  of  a  politician  passing 
over  the  same  space  would,  I  am  sure,  be  liberally 
recognized  as  a  somebody,  and  not  the  least  sort 
of  a  somebody  by  any  means.  The  stranger  to 
the  crowd,  however,  the  author  derives  practical 
benefit  from  the  'charm  of  mystery.'  To  be  at 
once  celebrated  and  unknown  is  for  him  a  desir 
able  condition.  His  books  are  read.  He  piques 
curiosity.  What  more  could  he  ask  for? 

"  The  Authors'  Club,  being  merely  an  associa 
tion  of  authors,  is  therefore  somewhat  outside  of 
public  view.  Its  peculiar  distinction  is  that  it 
brings  together  various  men  whom  the  world 
honors,  and  a  few  more  whom  the  world  may  or 
may  not  learn  to  honor.  It  is  a  very  modest 
little  Club,  possibly  with  a  very  large  future 
before  it.  If  I  should  praise  it  for  one  thing  heart 
ily,  that  would  be  the  good  fellowship  which 
animates  it  and  which  has  permitted  it  to  thrive. 
Among  the  older  members  of  the  club  —  the  mem- 


202  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

bers  who  actually  possess  reputation  —  are  Stod- 
dard,  Stedman,  Curtis,  Edward  Eggleston,  John 
Hay,  M.  U.  Con  way,  Mark  Twain,  George  H. 
Boker,  Henry  Drisler,  E.  P.  Roe,  Andrew  Car 
negie,  Henry  James,  E.  L.  Godkin,  Parke  God 
win,  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  Noah  Brooks,  and  (in  an 
honorary  sense)  J.  R.  Lowell,  Holmes,  Whittier, 
R.  L.  Stevenson,  and  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 
The  younger  members  count  such  names  as  Gilder, 
Lathrop,  Bunner,  Boyesen,  Bishop,  Luska,  Will 
Carleton,  Rutton,  Matthews,  McMaster,  Miller, 
Bronson  Howard,  Mabie,  DeKay,  Boyle  O'Reilly, 
Thorndike  Rice,  and  others  hardly  less  well 
known.  Of  all  the  men  whom  I  just  mentioned 
none  has  a  wider  reading  public  than  Edward  P. 
Roe,  some  of  whose  books  have  passed  through 
twenty  or  more  editions. 

"  Mr.  Roe  is  one  of  those  authors  '  who  make 
money,'  whose  writing  is  not  thrown  on  the 
barren  soil  of  neglect.  His  income  from  books 
is  much  ampler,  I  believe,  than  the  income  of  any 
other  man  of  letters,  obtained  from  the  same 
source,  in  America.  Because  he  is  so  popular  he 
does  not  necessarily  possess  the  elements  of  great 
ness.  True  greatness  seldom  'makes  money.' 
Even  brilliant  originality  in  literature  has  a  com 
paratively  small  audience.  This  is  the  line  of 
logic,  since  the  finest  writing  appeals  only  to  the 


LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH  2OJ 

finest  minds,  and  the  latter  are  stray  blossomings 
in  an  oasis  of  respectability.  It  is  not,  in  the 
circumstances,  difficult  to  explain  Mr.  Roe's 
popularity.  He  tells  a  pleasant  story  with  un 
affected  simplicity;  he  is  always  on  the  side  of 
conservative  feeling;  he  is  eager  to  help  men  and 
women,  as  well  as  to  amuse  them ;  he  is,  in  short, 
the  most  earnest  and  effective  representative  of 
a  numerous  '  home  gathering '  that  is  now  writing 
in  this  country.  Why,  then,  should  he  not  be 
popular  ?  The  bold  or  merely  erratic  genius  of  dis 
tinctly  literary  writers  might  not  be  appreciated  or 
comprehended  by  Mr.  Roe's  public.  Even  so 
aggressive  a  person  as  that  turbulent  and  pyro 
technic  Frenchman,  Guy  de  Maupassant,  attacks 
criticism  in  a  way  which  should  be  a  lesson  to 
Mr.  Roe's  least  generous  critics.  Without  any 
kind  of  preconception  or  theory  M.  Maupassant 
says:  'A  critic  should  understand,  distinguish, 
and  explain  the  most  opposite  tendencies,  the 
most  contrary  temperaments,  and  admit  the  most 
adverse  researches  of  art.'  On  such  a  broad 
basis  of  criticism  every  admissible  popularity 
may  be  fairly  accounted  for. 

"  Mr.  Roe,  the  man,  is  an  exact  counterpart,  one 
may  say,  of  Mr.  Roe,  the  author.  As  an  author, 
in  the  first  place,  he  is  remarkably  candid.  He 
has  been  so  candid,  indeed,  that  the  tendency  of 


204  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

certain  critics  to  treat  him  disingenuously  is 
rather  absurd.  These  critics  want  him  to  write 
books,  apparently,  which  he  does  not  propose  to 
write;  they  overlook  the  fact  that  Mr.  Roe  has 
stated  very  clearly  just  what  he  desires  to  write. 
In  a  preface  to  one  of  his  novels  he  says,  in  effect, 
that  if  his  books  are  not  beautiful  works  of  art 
they  are  at  least  books  which  tender  peace  and 
resignation  to  many  lives.  (I  am  not  quoting,  by 
the  way,  but  am  presenting  the  idea  which  must 
have  been  in  Mr.  Roe's  mind  when  he  wrote  that 
preface.)  There  are  so  many  clever  books  pub 
lished  nowadays  which  pervert  the  young  and  sen 
sitive  conscience  —  a  word  not  included  in  the 
vocabulary  of  our  '  disagreeably  '  artistic  novel 
ists —  that  it  may  be  wise  to  accept  Mr.  Roe's 
novels  as  good  morality,  if  not  as  the  best 
literature. 

"  It  is  not  every  author  who  puts  himself  into 
his  books.  Drunkards  have  written  temperance 
tracts.  Blackguards  have  written  treatises  on 
ideal  existence.  Posing  fops  have  railed  against 
the  hardships  which  beset  noble  ambition.  Mr. 
Roe  has  written  the  best  that  is  in  him  for  the 
best  that  is  in  thousands  of  men  and  women.  I 
have  tried  to  indicate  briefly  what  he  is  as  an 
author.  As  a  man,  he  is  not  less  genial,  sincere, 
and  agreeable  than  his  books.  The  cleverest 


LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH  205 

authors  are,  as  a  rule,  far  more  entertaining  and 
astonishing  in  their  books  than  in  themselves. 
In  themselves,  to  speak  the  truth,  they  are  not 
likely  to  be  either  entertaining  or  astonishing. 
I  should  look  to  few  of  them  as  acceptable  hosts. 
Mr.  Roe  proved  himself,  and  proved  how  good  a 
host  he  was,  on  a  recent  Saturday  afternoon, 
when  some  thirty  or  forty  members  of  the 
Authors'  Club  accepted  his  invitation  to  spend  a 
day  at  his  house  and  grounds  on  the  historic 
heights  of  Cornwall. 

"Nearly  all  those  who  accepted  Mr.  Roe's  invi 
tation  travelled  to  Cornwall  by  water.  And  they 
were  not  a  bad  lot,  taking  them  together.  There 
was  E.  C.  Stedman,  for  example,  the  most  pop 
ular  writer  among  writers,  the  youngest  man, 
by  all  odds,  for  his  age  —  fuller  of  the  exhilara 
tion  of  youth  than  most  of  his  juniors  by  twenty 
years;  C.  C.  Buel,  associate  editor  of  the  Cen 
tury,  who  will  soon  marry  Miss  Snow,  an  adopted 
daughter  (if  I  am  not  mistaken)  of  'John  Paul,' 
otherwise  known  as  Mr.  Webb ;  Mr.  Webb  him 
self,  wearing  that  contentedly  placid  air  which  he 
never  seems  to  shake  off,  and  always  on  time  with 
a  good  story  or  joke;  A.  J.  Conant,  whose  yarns 
are  famous,  and  whose  tall  form  swayed  benignly 
under  a  huge  slouch  hat;  Hamilton  W.  Mabie, 
the  youthful  and  smiling  editor  of  the  Christian 


2O6  LAST   BOOK  —  DEATH 

Union;  W.  L.  Keese,  one  of  the  few  men  who 
can  speak  with  authority  on  the  acting  of  Burton ; 
Theodore  L.  De  Vinne,  recently  returned  from 
Europe,  where  he  had  vast  trouble  in  keeping 
warm ;  W.  H.  Bishop,  who  has  got  beyond  the 
'promising'  stage  in  novel  writing  and  who  will 
spend  his  summer  in  France;  Henry  Harland 
('  Sidney  Luska '),  as  cheerful  as  his  stories  are 
sombre  —  just  the  sort  of  personality  that  does 
not  repeat  itself  in  literature;  Raymond  S.  Per- 
rin,  who  is  kind  enough  to  save  some  of  his 
friends  from  disaster  by  presenting  his  first  pub 
lished  book —  price  $5 — to  them;  W.  S.  Walsh, 
close  shaven  as  a  priest,  and  editor  of  Lippin- 
cott's;  Noah  Brooks,  once  upon  a  time  presiding 
genius  of  the  Lotus  Club,  and  the  author  of  several 
charming  books  for  boys;  Edward  Carey,  asso 
ciate  editor  of  the  New  York  Times;  Leonard 
Kip,  Albert  Matthews,  John  H.  Boner,  R.  R. 
Bowker,  and  several  representatives  of  the  Cen 
tury's  staff. 

"  When  this  crowd  of  writers  —  numbering  about 
thirty  in  all  —  reached  Mr.  Roe's  home,  they 
found  Richard  Henry  Stoddard  and  Julian  Haw 
thorne  installed  there.  Mr.  Stoddard  may  now 
be  classed  properly  among  our  '  venerable  '  poets, 
although  he  enjoys  excellent  health  and  gets 
through  an  immense  amount  of  work.  Haw- 


LAST   BOOK  —  DEATH  2O/ 

thorne,  in  a  flannel  shirt,  with  a  soft  red  tennis 
cap  on  his  handsome  head,  was  by  far  the  most 
picturesque  figure  of  the  group.  As  to  the  host, 
Mr.  Roe,  he  is  a  man  of  somewhat  striking  pres 
ence.  He  is  of  medium  height,  strongly  built, 
with  a  gravely  pleasant  and  intelligent  face;  his 
dark  hair  is  brushed  off  a  high  forehead,  his  beard 
and  mustache  are  long  and  black ;  he  has  kindly 
gray  eyes,  and  his  manner  is  that  of  a  man  who 
has  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  the  atmos 
phere  of  home.  To  do  good,  to  help  others  — 
that  appears  to  be  his  earnest  ambition.  The 
notes  of  religion  and  morality  dominate  the  note 
of  literature  in  him.  In  fact,  he  is  much  less  an 
author  than  a  teacher.  Once  he  preached  from 
the  church  pulpit,  now  he  preaches  through  his 
books,  and  he  finds  the  latter  method  far  more 
profitable,  at  least,  than  the  former. 

"Mr.  Roe  does  not  confine  himself,  however,  to 
the  making  of  such  books  as  please  the  great 
Philistine  class.  He  is  an  authority  on  the  culti 
vation  of  small  fruits  and  flowers.  What  he  has 
written  upon  this  interesting  subject  possesses 
scientific  value.  Upon  his  grounds  at  Cornwall 
he  raises  some  beautiful  specimens  of  the  rose, 
and  strawberries  as  large  and  luscious  as  any 
found  in  New  Jersey  soil  during  June.  The  day 
selected  for  the  authors'  visit  to  Cornwall  hap- 


2O8  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

pened  to  be  at  the  height  of  the  strawberry  season, 
and  the  manner  in  which  these  usually  sedate 
persons  made  their  way  to  Mr.  Roe's  strawberry 
bushes  immediately  after  greeting  their  host  re 
minded  one  of  the  skirmishing  of  boys  in  a  melon 
patch.  The  berries,  many  of  them  with  the  cir 
cumference  of  a  young  tomato,  were  dug  remorse 
lessly  from  their  cool  shadows,  while  a  particularly 
hot  sun  poured  down  upon  the  backs  of  thirty 
perspiring  authors.  But  the  fruit  was  worthy  of 
the  effort  used  in  plucking  it,  for  Mr.  Roe  has 
brought  strawberry  culture  to  a  rare  state  of  per 
fection.  His  berries,  whether  large  or  small, 
have  a  singularly  sweet  and  delicate  flavor;  they 
are  richly  colored,  and  their  meat  is  as  firm  as 
that  of  a  ripe  peach. 

"Mr.  Roe's  grounds  are  quite  spacious,  and  lie 
directly  under  the  shade  of  Storm  King.  They 
are  included  in  the  plateau  of  a  hill,  and  the 
scenery  round  about  —  especially  in  the  direction 
of  the  Hudson  —  is  wonderfully  varied  and  pictu 
resque.  Mr.  Roe's  father  and  grandfather  resided 
at  Cornwall,  and  now  a  fourth  generation  of  the 
family  is  identified  with  this  lovely  bit  of  coun 
try.  The  house  occupied  by  the  novelist  is  not 
the  one  built  by  his  ancestors.  It  is  a  plain,  old- 
fashioned  structure,  built  as  every  similar  struc 
ture  should  be  —  with  a  broad,  breezy  hall 


LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH  2O9 

running  from  end  to  end,  thus  dividing  the  lower 
part  of  the  house  into  two  comfortable  compart 
ments.  The  various  rooms  —  and  there  are  plenty 
of  them  —  are  neatly  but  not  pretentiously  fur 
nished,  books  and  pictures  being  their  chief 
ornaments.  On  the  top  floor  Mr.  Roe  has  his 
workshop  —  a  long,  narrow,  uncarpeted  room, 
under  a  slanting  roof,  well  ventilated,  and  filled 
with  lazy  lounges  and  chairs,  common  book 
shelves,  a  large  writing-desk,  and  a  cabinet  con 
taining  specimens  of  Hudson  River  birds.  Mr. 
Roe's  latest  hobby  is  to  collect  birds  and  to  study 
their  songs.  He  stuffs  the  birds  and  jots  down 
in  a  note-book  brief  comments  upon  their  songs. 
He  is  endeavoring,  especially,  to  make  an  exact 
list  of  the  time  —  to  the  fraction  of  a  second  — at 
which  each  bird  begins  to  sing  in  the  early  dawn. 
'  I  like  to  get  my  facts  from  nature,'  he  said  to 
me,  '  not  from  other  men's  books.' 

"  Mr.  Roe  is  one  of  the  most  hospitable  of  men, 
a  fact  which  his  thirty  author-friends  would  have 
discovered  if  they  had  not  known  that  it  was  a 
fact.  A  day  seldom  goes  by  that  does  not  bring 
him  a  visitor  who  receives  a  royal  welcome;  a 
night  seldom  passes  that  does  not  find  occupants 
for  his  spare  rooms.  Whoever  takes  the  trouble 
to  call  upon  him  he  is  glad  enough  to  see.  If  his 
half-million  readers  could  call  upon  him  simul- 


210  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

taneously  they  would  be  led  cheerfully  to  the 
strawberry  patch.  Authors  may  thrive  on  the 
stones  of  a  city  because  they  must;  but  the  ideal 
home  for  an  author  is  that  of  E.  P.  Roe  at 
Cornwall. 

"GEORGE  EDGAR  MONTGOMERY." 

"  It  was  on  one  of  the  most  delightful  days  of 
last  month  that  Mr.  Roe  received  in  an  informal 
way  at  his  hillside  home  his  fellow-craftsmen  of 
the  Authors'  Club  of  New  York. 

"  A  rambling  old  house  placed  back  from  the 
road  and  perched  upon  one  of  the  many  hilltops 
that  rise  from  the  river  in  that  most  picturesque 
section  known  as  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson, 
Mr.  Roe's  home  had  about  it  that  air  of  comfort 
and  serenity  that  one  would  naturally  imagine  as 
the  most  appropriate  surroundings  for  the  author 
of  '  Nature's  Serial  Story.' 

"Mr.  Roe  was  so  peculiarly  a  companionable 
man  that  his  friends  were  legion,  and  among  the 
busy  workers  who  constitute  the  Authors'  Club 
none  were  more  popular  than  he  —  the  busiest 
worker  of  them  all. 

"He  met  us  at  the  landing,  his  genial  face 
speaking  a  welcome  even  before  his  voice  was 
heard,  and  '  Roe  !  Roe !  Roe  ! '  came  the  greeting 
from  his  expectant  guests  ere  they  filed  off  the 


LAST  BOOK — DEATH  211 

boat.  He  saw  that  we  were  all  comfortably  be 
stowed  in  the  numerous  carriages  that  he  had  in 
waiting,  led  the  procession  up  the  steep  road  that 
climbed  the  Cornwall  hills,  and  standing  at  the 
foot  of  his  veranda  steps,  welcomed  each  visitor 
who  '  lighted  down '  with  his  cheery  smile  and 
his  cordial  hand-clasp.  He  turned  us  loose  in 
his  strawberrry  bed  —  that  pet  domain  of  one  who 
had  so  practically  shown  how  it  was  possible  to 
achieve  '  Success  with  Small  Fruits; '  he  loaded 
us  with  roses  —  dear  also  to  one  who  lived  as  he 
did  '  Near  to  Nature's  Heart ; '  and  then  with  brief 
words  of  hospitality  that  were  alive,  hearty  and 
inspiring,  he  bade  us  make  free  with  his  house 
and  home  for  the  day.  That  we  enjoyed  it,  every 
action  testified.  Released  from  care  and  labor  for 
a  day,  surrounded  by  all  the  attractions  that  make 
a  June  day  among  the  Highlands  doubly  delight 
ful,  and  made  so  cordially  to  feel  ourselves  at 
home,  enjoyment  was  easy,  and  the  day  was  one 
to  be  marked  with  a  red  letter  by  all  whose  good 
fortune  it  was  to  have  been  one  of  that  merry 
party. 

"Mr.  Roe's  Cornwall  home  showed  the  lover 
of  Nature  and  of  his  chosen  profession.  '  This 
has  been  your  inspiration  here,  has  it  not  ? '  I 
asked.  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  with  a  loving  glance  at 
the  quiet  country  landscape  that  we  overlooked 


212  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

from  the  broad  veranda;  'here  and  hereabouts 
I  have  got  very  much  of  my  material.  I  love 
it  all.' 

"The  comfortable  rooms  of  that  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  house  had  many  a  touch  that  showed 
the  affection  for  his  surroundings. 

" '  Well,  Roe, '  said  Stedman,  ever  ready  with 
his  apt  quotations,  '  this  castle  hath  a  pleasant 
seat,'  and  he  said  truly.  The  homelike  house, 
the  thrifty  farm-lands,  the  verdant  patches  filled 
with  fruits  and  flowers,  and  the  green  growths  of 
the  kitchen  garden  bespoke  the  man  who  added 
to  the  gentleman-farmer  the  practical  student  of 
the  helpful  products  of  the  earth. 

"'Down  there,'  he  said,  indicating  one  portion 
of  his  land,  '  I  have  planted  twenty-five  varieties 
of  peas.  I  wish  to  test  them,  to  study  their 
quality  and  discover  which  are  the  best  for  the 
producer  to  raise  and  which  have  the  best  flavor. 
I  like  to  make  these  experiments. ' 

"A  bountiful  spread  for  the  sharpened  appe 
tites  of  those  who  found  in  that  flower-laden  air 
an  increase  of  desire  awaited  us  in  the  cool 
dining  and  reception-rooms  —  thrown  into  one  to 
comfortably  seat  so  large  a  company  —  and  it  was 
a  question  who  enjoyed  it  most,  guests  or  host, 
for  his  kindly  attentions  and  his  invitation  to  eat 
and  spare  not  gave  an  extra  sauce  to  the  good 


LAST   BOOK  —  DEATH  213 

things  offered  us.  An  after-dinner  ride  through 
the  charming  country  thereabout,  so  many  sec 
tions  of  which  had  been  written  into  his  charac 
teristic  stories;  a  siesta-like  reunion  beneath  the 
shade  of  the  trees  that  dotted  his  ample  lawn  and 
almost  embowered  his  home ;  an  oft-repeated  de 
sire  that  we  should  not  go  city-ward  until  'the 
last  train;'  a  quiet  chat  as  this  most  delightful 
of  hosts  passed  from  group  to  group;  the  zest 
with  which  the  pleasant-faced  wife  and  the  son 
and  daughter  of  our  host  seemed  to  enter  into  his 
and  our  enjoyment  of  the  day  —  these,  and  the 
many  minor  details  of  a  June  day's  outing  among 
the  historic  Highlands  that  may  not  find  expres 
sion  here,  gave  to  us  all  an  experience  that  no 
one  among  us  would  have  missed,  and  which  each 
one  of  us  will  recall  with  peculiar  and  tender 
memories  now  that  the  good  man  who  made  them 
possible  to  us  has  dropped  his  unfinished  work 
and  left  us  so  suddenly  and  so  unexpectedly. 

"ELBRIDGE  S.  BROOKS." 

Of  the  many  tributes  to  my  brother's  memory 
I  shall  here  quote  but  two.  The  first  is  from 
Julian  Hawthorne  and  is  addressed  to  the  Editors 
of  the  Critic  ;  the  second  is  the  resolution  of  sym 
pathy  sent  to  Mrs.  Roe  by  the  members  of  the 
Authors'  Club. 


214  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

"You  will  probably  be  asked  to  find  room  in 
your  columns  for  many  letters  from  the  friends 
of  E.  P.  Roe.  I  apply  for  admission  with  the 
others,  on  the  ground  that  none  of  them  could 
have  loved  him  more  that  I  did.  The  telegram 
which  to-day  told  me  of  his  death  has  made  my 
own  life  less  interesting  to  me.  He  was  so  good 
a  man  that  no  one  can  take  his  place  with  those 
who  knew  him.  It  is  the  simple  truth  that  he 
cared  for  his  friends  more  than  for  himself;  that 
his  greatest  happiness  was  to  see  others  happy; 
that  he  would  have  more  rejoiced  in  the  literary 
fame  of  one  of  his  friends  than  in  any  such  fame 
of  his  own  winning.  All  his  leisure  was  spent 
in  making  plans  for  the  pleasure  and  profit  of 
other  people.  I  have  seen  him  laugh  with  delight 
at  the  success  of  these  plans.  As  I  write,  so 
many  generous,  sweet,  noble  deeds  of  his  throng 
in  my  memory,  —  deeds  done  so  unobtrusively, 
delicately  and  heartily,  —  that  I  feel  the  useless- 
ness  of  trying  to  express  his  value  and  our  loss. 
He  was  at  once  manly  and  childlike:  manly  in 
honor,  truth,  and  tenderness;  childlike  in  the 
simplicity  that  suspects  no  guile  and  practises 
none.  He  had  in  him  that  rare  quality  of  loving 
sympathy  that  prompted  sinners  to  bring  their 
confessions  to  him,  and  ask  help  and  counsel  of 
him,  —  which  he  gave,  and  human  love  into  the 


LAST  BOOK — DEATH 

bargain.  Among  his  million  readers,  thousands 
wrote  to  thank  him  for  good  that  his  books  had 
awakened  in  their  souls  and  stimulated  in  their 
lives.  He  knew  the  human  heart,  his  own  was 
so  human  and  so  great ;  and  the  vast  success  of 
his  stones,  however  technical  critics  may  have 
questioned  it,  was  within  his  deserts,  because  it 
was  based  on  this  fact.  No  one  could  have  had  a 
humbler  opinion  of  Roe's  '  art '  than  he  had:  but 
an  author  who  believes  that  good  is  stronger  than 
evil,  and  that  a  sinner  may  turn  from  his  wicked 
ness  and  live,  and  who  embodies  these  convictions 
in  his  stories,  without  a  trace  of  cant  or  taint  of 
insincerity,  — such  an  author  and  man  deserves  a 
success  infinitely  wider  and  more  permanent  than 
that  of  the  skilfulest  literary  mechanic:  and  it 
is  to  the  credit  of  our  nation  that  he  has  it." 

Authors'  Club,  19  West  24th  Street,  New  York. 
January  19,  1889. 

MRS.  E.  P.  ROE, 

DEAR  MADAM —  I  am  instructed  by  the 
General  Meeting  of  the  Authors'  Club  to  com 
municate  to  you  the  following  minute  of  a 
resolution  that  was  then  adopted.  It  runs  as 
follows:  — 

"  On  motion  of  Mr.  E.  C.  Stedman  it  is  unani 
mously  resolved  that  by  the  death  of  Mr.  E.  P. 
Roe  this  club  has  lost  a  member  who  was  en- 


2l6  LAST  BOOK  —  DEATH 

deared  to  his  fellow-members  by  more  than  ordi 
nary  ties.  His  kindly  disposition  and  charm  of 
conversation  and  manner,  his  wide  charity,  made 
him  an  always  welcome  companion,  and  though 
circumstances  did  not  admit  of  his  frequent 
attendance  at  its  meetings,  his  constant  interest 
in  the  club  was  evinced  by  numerous  attentions 
which  showed  that  he  was  present  in  spirit  if  not 
in  person. 

"This  club  recalls  with  a  sense  of  sorrowful 
satisfaction  that  the  last  act  of  the  late  Mr.  Roe 
in  connection  with  the  club  was  the  generous  en 
tertainment  of  its  members  by  himself  and  his 
wife,  a  few  weeks  before  his  death,  at  his  home 
at  Cornwall-on-the-Hudson,  an  event  which  will 
ever  dwell  in  the  grateful  remembrance  of  those 
who  were  present  on  the  occasion,  and  in  scarcely 
a  less  degree  of  those  members  who  were  unable 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  privilege. 

"At  its  Annual  Meeting  this  club  desires  to 
assure  Mrs.  Roe  and  the  members  of  her  family 
of  its  sincere  sympathy  with  her  in  the  bereave 
ment  which  she  has  sustained,  to  convey  to  her 
its  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  abundant  hos 
pitality  she  exercised  toward  the  club  on  the  occa 
sion  of  its  visit  to  her  home  last  June,  and  to 
thank  her  for  her  generous  gift  of  an  admirable 
portrait  of  her  late  husband." 


LAST  BOOK  — DEATH 

I  have  the   honor  to  be,   Madam,   with  great 
respect, 

Your  faithful  servant, 

A.  B.  STAREY, 

Secretary  Authors'  Club. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.  ROE'S  BOOKS 

A  FEW  more  pages  will  be  given  to  an  account 
of    the    circumstances    under    which    my 
brother's  books  were  written,  including  mention 
of  some  incidents  which  suggested  the  stories. 

His  first  novel  was  "Barriers  Burned  Away." 
Speaking  of  this  venture  he  said  at  one  time :  — "  I 
did  not  take  up  the  writing  of  fiction  as  a  means 
of  livelihood,  nor  to  gratify  ambition.  When  I 
heard  the  news  of  the  great  fire  in  Chicago  I  had 
a  passionate  desire  to  see  its  houseless,  homeless 
condition,  and  spent  several  days  among  the 
ruins  and  people,  who  found  refuge  wherever  they 
could.  I  wandered  around  night  and  day,  taking 
notes  of  all  I  saw,  and  there  the  plot  of  my  story 
was  vaguely  formed." 

When  Edward  had  written  about  eight  chapters 
of  this  book,  as  has  been  said,  he  read  them  to 
Dr.  Field  and  his  associate  editor,  Mr.  J.  H.  Dey. 
He  would  not  have  been  greatly  surprised  had 
they  advised  his  throwing  the  manuscript  into  the 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE'S   BOOKS        2 19 

burning  grate  before  them,  but,  instead,  they 
requested  him  to  leave  it  with  them  for  serial  pub 
lication  in  The  Evangelist. 

In  the  intervals  of  his  busy  life  at  Highland 
Falls  the  story  grew  into  fifty-two  chapters.  He 
wrote  when  and  where  he  could,  —  on  steamboats 
and  trains  as  well  as  in  his  study,  —  the  manu 
script  often  being  only  a  few  pages  ahead  of  its 
publication.  His  characters  took  full  possession 
of  his  imagination  and  were  very  real  to  him. 

The  serial  continued  for  a  year.  The  next 
thing  was  to  secure  a  publisher  for  the  book. 
Mr.  Dodd,  senior  member  of  the  firm  of  Dodd, 
Mead,  and  Company,  said  once  when  questioned 
in  reference  to  this  subject :  —  "  Mr.  Roe  brought 
his  manuscript  to  us  one  day.  We  read  it  and 
made  him  an  offer.  At  that  time  we  looked 
upon  the  venture  as  purely  experimental.  Mr. 
Roe  accepted  our  offer,  and  we  announced  the 
book.  In  a  short  time  letters  began  to  pour  in 
upon  us  from  people  who  had  seen  our  announce 
ment,  and  had  also  read  as  much  of  the  story  as 
had  appeared  in  The  Evangelist,  asking  when  the 
book  would  be  published.  These  letters  were 
the  first  indication  we  had  of  the  story's  popu 
larity,  but  they  were  very  good  evidence  of  it. 
An  edition  was  issued ;  the  book  sold  rapidly,  and 
the  sale  since  has  been  large  and  continuous." 


220        AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE  S  BOOKS 

"  How  about  your  original  contract  with  Mr. 
Roe?" 

"Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Mr.  Dodd, 
"  the  original  contract  was  destroyed  and  another 
made  on  a  different  basis  by  which  Mr.  Roe  is 
largely  the  gainer.  From  that  time  we  have  pub 
lished  everything  that  he  has  written,  and  our  rela 
tions  have  always  been  very  pleasant  and  close." 

"What  is  his  most  popular  work?  " 

"  *  Barriers  Burned  Away '  has  had  the  largest 
sale.  '  Without  a  Home '  stands  second  on  the  list, 
and,  considering  the  fact  that  it  was  published  ten 
years  later,  is  most  popular.  '  Opening  of  a 
Chestnut  Burr'  comes  next;  'Near  to  Nature's 
Heart '  has  had  a  very  large  sale,  and  the  others 
follow  closely.  There  is  not  one  of  his  novels 
that  has  not  had  a  wide  circulation." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  his 
books  have  been  sold  abroad  ?  " 

"All  have  been  published  in  England  and  the 
colonies.  Mr.  Roe  has  in  almost  every  instance 
arranged  with  English  publishers  for  an  author 
ized  edition  from  advance  sheets,  and  received 
compensation.  His  stories  are  also  translated 
into  German  and  French." 

"Barriers"  was  first  published  in  1872.  It  is 
reverently  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  the 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.  ROE'S  BOOKS    221 

author's  mother,  and  his  own  words  as  to  how  it 
came  to  be  written  have  already  been  quoted. 
Many  letters  were  received  from  young  men 
acknowledging  the  helpfulness  of  this  book. 

"Play  and  Profit  in  My  Garden"  was  Edward's 
first  book  on  horticulture.  It  was  written  in 
1873  at  Highland  Falls,  and  was  published  serially 
in  Tlie  Christian  Union,  then  edited  by  Dr. 
Lyman  Abbott.  Reviewing  the  book  just  two 
years  before  his  death,  he  claimed  that  he  put 
into  it  more  of  his  personality  than  into  any  of 
his  other  works. 

It  is  a  garden  story  of  his  own  experience.  The 
sandy  knoll  around  the  little  country  parsonage 
upon  which  grew  only  a  vine  or  two,  a  few  cherry 
trees  and  some  common  currant  bushes,  served  as 
a  beginning  in  this  gardening  venture.  To  that 
was  added  a  small  tract  of  adjoining  land  which 
was  rented  from  a  neighbor,  making  but  two  acres 
in  all,  yet  the  profits  from  this  ground  for  one 
season  alone  amounted  to  two  thousand  dollars. 

In  this  book  he  tells  how  his  garden  was 
stocked  first  with  plants  from  the  old  home  place, 
and  how  they  brought  back  the  sweet  associations 
of  his  childhood.  He  speaks,  too,  of  his  pleasure 
in  selecting  new  varieties  for  trial  from  the  gor 
geously  illustrated  catalogues  that  he  received. 

"  What   Can  She  Do  ? "  was  written  the  same 


222         AN   ACCOUNT   OF  E.   P.    ROE'S   BOOKS 

year.  Since  that  time  numberless  women  have 
learned  through  the  fortunes  or  misfortunes  of 
life  to  solve  this  problem  for  themselves,  but  this 
book  has  found  a  place  in  many  homes  and  by  its 
influence  has  led  young  girls  to  be  more  helpful 
in  the  family  circle  as  well  as  in  the  wider  social 
spheres  in  which  they  move. 

"  Opening  of  a  Chestnut  Burr"  (1874)  suggested 
itself  to  Edward's  mind  while  taking  a  walk  one 
autumn  along  a  wood-road  on  the  grounds  of  the 
old  homestead.  Several  of  the  characters  are 
drawn  from  life,  representing  some  eccentric 
people  who  lived  near  us  in  our  childhood.  In  a 
"  well-meanin'  "  man,  "Daddy  Inggar,"  we  have  a 
perfect  picture  of  an  old  neighbor  whom  we 
children  called  "Daddy  Liscomb. "  He  lived  in 
a  little  house  opposite  one  of  our  father's  apple 
orchards,  and  no  watch-dog  could  have  been  more 
faithful  than  was  this  old  man  in  guarding  our 
fruit  from  the  depredations  of  factory  boys.  He 
was  very  profane,  more  in  his  last  years  from 
habit,  however,  than  from  intentional  irreverence, 
and  sometimes  when  the  Methodist  clergyman 
was  offering  prayer  in  his  home  a  sudden  twinge 
of  rheumatism  would  call  forth  a  perfect  volley 
of  oaths,  for  which  he  would  immediately  after 
ward  make  most  humble  apologies.  This  book 
Edward  dedicated  to  his  wife. 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE'S   BOOKS        223 

"From  Jest  to  Earnest"  (1875)  is  dedicated  to 
Edward's  schoolmate  and  college  friend,  Rev.  A. 
Moss  Merwin.  The  story  is  nearly  altogether 
imaginary,  but  was  suggested  by  an  actual  house- 
party  and  the  position  of  a  clever  hostess  who 
was  embarrassed  by  the  necessity  for  making 
the  best  of  an  unwelcome  guest. 

"Near  to  Nature's  Heart "  was  written  at  Corn 
wall  and  published  in  1876  —  the  Centennial  year. 
It  is  a  Revolutionary  story,  and  the  scene  is  laid 
near -West  Point.  "Captain  Molly"  is  of  course 
historical,  as  is  also  the  Robin  Hood  of  the 
Highlands,  "Claudius  Smith."  But  most  of 
the  incidents  of  the  story,  as  well  as  the  lead 
ing  characters,  are  imaginary. 

A  few  years  ago  I  met  at  a  seashore  resort  in 
Massachusetts  a  cultured  gentleman  who  held  a 
high  position  in  an  educational  institution  in  that 
State.  He  told  me  that  his  only  child,  Vera,  was 
named  from  the  heroine  of  "  Near  to  Nature's 
Heart."  He  had  read  all  of  my  brother's  books, 
but  particularly  enjoyed  this  one.  And  while  in 
California  making  a  trip  to  some  of  the  high 
mountain  passes  of  the  State  I  met  a  young  couple 
living  in  a  lonely  canon,  miles  from  any  town, 
whose  year-old  baby  was  called  Amy,  in  honor, 
they  said,  of  the  heroine  of  "Nature's  Serial 
Story."  They  had  no  knowledge  of  my  relation 
ship  to  the  author  of  the  book. 


224        AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.    ROE'S  BOOKS 

"A  Knight  of  the  Nineteenth  Century" 
(1877)  was  reverently  dedicated  to  the  memory  of 
the  writer's  father.  These  lines  form  the 
preface : — 

"  He  best  deserves  a  knightly  crest 
Who  slays  the  evils  that  infest 
His  soul  within.     If  victor  here, 
He  soon  will  find  a  wider  sphere. 
The  world  is  cold  to  him  who  pleads ; 
The  world  bows  low  to  knightly  deeds." 

Soon  after  this  book  was  offered  for  sale  upon 
the  railroad  trains,  a  young  man,  who  had  tired  of 
the  humdrum  duties  of  his  home,  started  West  to 
seek  adventure  in  the  excitements  of  mining  life. 
He  bought  a  copy,  read  it,  and  was  so  impressed 
by  the  writer's  picture  of  true  knightly  deeds  that 
he  abandoned  his  purpose  and  returned  to  take 
up  the  obligations  he  had  cast  aside. 

"A  Face  Illumined "  (1878).  A  beautiful,  but 
discordant,  face  once  seen  at  a  concert-garden 
suggested  the  title  and  plot  of  this  book.  It 
interested  Edward  to  imagine  what  such  a  counte 
nance  could  express  under  the  ennobling  influence 
of  a  pure  Christian  life.  He  says  in  his  preface: 
—  "  The  old  garden  and  the  aged  man  who  grew 
young  in  it  are  not  creations,  but  sacred  memo 
ries.  "  It  was  our  father  who  was  constantly  in 
the  writer's  mind  as  he  rehearsed  the  conversa 
tions  with  Mr.  Eltinge,  and  the  enormous  silver 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE'S  BOOKS        225 

poplar  that  shaded  the  old  man's  front  gate,  the 
tool-house  and  pear  tree,  and  the  brook  in  which 
"  Ida  Mayhew  "  bathed  her  tear-stained  face,  were 
all  drawn  from  originals. 

"Without  a  Home"  (1881).  This  book  was 
announced  two  years  before  it  was  completed,  for 
my  brother  studied  with  great  care  and  patience 
the  problems  upon  which  it  touches.  He  visited 
scores  of  tenements  and  station-houses,  and  sat 
day  after  day  upon  the  bench  with  police  judges. 
He  also  talked  with  many  of  the  proprietors  of 
city  stores  and  with  their  employees,  and  his  in 
dignation  was  aroused  when  he  found  that  in  most 
of  these  establishments  saleswomen  were  com 
pelled  to  stand  throughout  the  hot  summer  days, 
no  provision  being  made  for  even  an  occasional 
rest.  In  regard  to  the  victim  of  the  opium  habit 
in  this  story,  he  said  once,  "  I  felt  from  the  first 
that  Mr.  Joselyn  was  going  to  ruin  and  I  could 
not  stop  him,  and  suffered  much  with  him.  I 
also  felt  the  death  of  his  daughter  almost  as  much 
as  if  she  had  been  a  member  of  my  own  family." 

"Success  with  Small  Fruits"  (1881).  "Dedi 
cated  to  Mr.  Charles  Downing,  a  neighbor, 
friend,  and  horticulturist  from  whom  I  shall 
esteem  it  a  privilege  to  learn  in  coming  years,  as 
I  have  in  the  past."  Chapters  from  this  book, 
appropriately  illustrated,  first  appeared  serially 

'5 


226    AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.  ROE'S  BOOKS 

in  Scribner's  Magazine-.  But  the  larger  scope 
which  the  book  afforded  gave  Edward  opportunity 
to  treat  the  various  topics  more  in  detail.  He 
gives  many  practical  suggestions  for  the  benefit 
of  those  who  are  interested  in  this  subject. 
Nevertheless,  the  book  is  not  a  mere  manual 
upon  the  culture  of  small  fruits.  It  is  happily 
written,  and  much  quiet  humor  is  to  be  found  in 
its  pages.  To  quote  a  brief  example :  —  "In 
April  the  bees  will  prove  to  you  that  honey  may 
be  gathered  even  from  a  gooseberry  bush.  In 
deed,  gooseberries  are  like  some  ladies  that  we 
all  know.  In  their  young  and  blossoming  days 
they  are  sweet  and  pink-hued,  and  then  they  grow 
acid,  pale,  and  hard;  but  in  the  ripening  experi 
ence  of  later  life  they  become  sweet  again.  Be 
fore  they  drop  from  their  places  the  bees  come 
back  for  honey,  and  find  it " 

Whatever  may  be  the  opinion  of  critics  in 
regard  to  my  brother's  fiction,  his  works  on  horti 
culture  are  of  unquestioned  authority;  they  em 
body  the  results  of  carefully  tested  personal 
experiments,  and  for  this  reason  have  their  value. 
In  this  book  are  given  practical  directions  and 
advice  that  gardeners  have  told  me  were  of  im 
mense  service  to  them. 

"'A  Day  of  Fate  "  (1880).  This  is  a  quiet  love- 
story  of  a  summer  sojourn  in  the  Highlands. 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE'S  BOOKS        22/ 

"His  Sombre  Rivals:  A  Story  of  the  Civil 
War  "  (1883).  In  the  preface  he  says  :  "  The  stern 
and  prolonged  conflict  taught  mutual  respect. 
The  men  of  the  North  were  convinced  that  they 
fought  Americans,  and  that  the  people  on  both 
sides  were  sincere  and  honest." 

The  Battle  of  Bull  Run  is  simply  a  suggested 
picture,  and  the  other  war  scenes  are  colored  by 
the  writer's  own  reminiscences;  but  concerning 
all  technical  details  he  consulted  military  men. 

"A  Young  Girl's  Wooing"  (1884).  Another 
short  love-story,  with  the  scene  laid  in  the  Cats- 
kills,  where  it  was  written. 

"  Nature's  Serial  Story  "  was  also  published  in 
1884,  but  Edward  had  been  for  several  years 
making  studies  for  it,  at  each  season  carefully 
noting  his  observations.  He  was  a  great  lover 
of  birds  and  knew  exactly  when  each  species 
arrived  North  in  the  spring  and  just  when  the 
fall  migrations  took  place.  "Song,"  he  says 
elsewhere,  "  is  the  first  crop  I  obtain,  and  one  of 
the  best.  The  robins  know  I  am  a  friend  of 
theirs,  in  spite  of  their  taste  for  early  straw 
berries  and  cherries,  and  when  I  am  at  work  they 
are  very  sociable  and  familiar.  One  or  two  will 
light  on  raspberry  stakes  and  sing  and  twitter 
almost  as  incessantly  and  intelligently  as  the 
children  in  their  playhouse  under  the  great  oak 


228   AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.  P.  ROE'S  BOOKS 

tree.  Yet  the  robin's  first  mellow  whistle  in 
spring  is  a  clarion  call  to  duty,  the  opening  note 
of  the  campaign." 

He  drew  directly  from  Nature  for  facts,  and  the 
composition  of  this  book  gave  him  genuine  pleas 
ure.  He  says :  "  My  characters  may  seem  shadows 
to  others,  but  they  were  real  to  me.  I  meet 
them  still  in  my  walks  or  drives,  where  in  fancy 
I  placed  them." 

"An  Original  Belle"  (1885).  The  most  dra 
matic  scenes  in  this  book  are  those  connected 
with  the  New  York  Draft  Riots.  Edward  was  in 
the  city  one  day  when  the  riot  had  reached  its 
height,  and  personally  witnessed  many  of  the 
incidents  described.  Portions  of  the  book  relat 
ing  to  this  time  were  submitted  to  the  Superin 
tendent  of  the  Metropolitan  police  force  for 
possible  corrections  in  the  statements  made. 

"Driven  Back  to  Eden."  This  story  for  chil 
dren  was  published  serially  in  St.  Nicholas,  in 
1885.  It  was  lovingly  dedicated  to  "Johnnie," 
his  pet  name  for  his  youngest  daughter.  In  it  my 
brother  takes  a  family  from  a  narrow  city  flat  in 
a  neighborhood  that  was  respectable,  but  densely 
populated,  and  where  the  children  were  forced  to 
spend  much  time  upon  the  streets  with  very  unde 
sirable  companions,  to  a  simple  country  home, 
surrounded  by  garden,  fields,  and  woods.  Here 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE*S  BOOKS        229 

they  enjoy  the  ideal  outdoor  life  —  perhaps  as 
near  that  of  the  original  "  Eden  "  as  can  be  imag 
ined.  Edward  places  these  children  among  the 
scenes  of  his  own  boyhood  and  writes  of  experi 
ences  that  are  fictitious  only  in  detail  and 
characters. 

"  He  Fell  in  Love  with  His  Wife  "  (1886).  A 
chance  item  in  a  newspaper  relative  to  a  man  who 
had  married  in  order  to  secure  a  competent  house 
keeper  suggested  this  story,  in  which  the  hero 
tries  a  similar  experiment. 

"  The  Home  Acre  "  (1887)  first  appeared  serially 
in  Harper  s  Magazine.  It  dwells  upon  the  advan 
tages  and  pleasures  of  country  life,  which  is 
particularly  recommended  for  business  men  as 
affording  rest  and  diversion  of  thought  after  con 
tinuous  mental  strain.  Practical  hints  are  given 
as  to  the  kind  of  trees  to  plant  and  how  to  plant 
them,  also  as  to  the  proper  cultivation  of  vine 
yards,  orchards  and  the  small  fruits.  He  urges 
the  advisability  of  teaching  every  boy  and  girl  in 
the  public  schools  to  recognize  and  protect  certain 
insects,  toads,  and  harmless  snakes  that  are  of 
incalculable  value  in  the  culture  of  plants  and 
fruits  because  of  the  warfare  they  wage  against 
the  enemies  of  vegetable  life. 

"The  Earth  Trembled"  (1887)  was  written 
while  at  Santa  Barbara;  but,  as  in  the  case  of  the 


230        AN  ACCOUNT  OF  E.   P.   ROE'S  BOOKS 

Chicago  fire,  Edward  went  to  Charleston  before 
the  effects  of  the  earthquake  had  been  removed, 
and  saw  the  state  of  the  city  and  its  inhabitants 
for  himself.  I  have  been  told  by  people  who 
lived  there  at  the  time  that  my  brother's  descrip 
tions  of  the  dreadful  calamity  are  very  accurate. 

"Miss  Lou"  (1888)  was  my  brother's  last  book 
and  was  left  unfinished  by  his  sudden  death. 
The  inscription  reads:  —  "In  loving  dedication 
to  '  little  Miss  Lou,'  my  youngest  daughter." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  TABLET  AND  MEMORIAL  ADDRESS 

ON  May  3Oth,  Decoration  Day  of  1894, 
Edward's  family  and  many  of  his  friends 
were  invited  by  the  citizens  of  Cornwall-on-the- 
Hudson  to  be  present  at  the  dedication  of  a 
Memorial  Park  to  be  known  as  Roe  Park,  a 
wild  spot  in  the  rear  of  his  home  where  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  go  for  recreation  when  his 
day's  task  was  done. 

Here  a  bronze  tablet  was  placed  upon  one  of 
the  huge  bowlders  upon  which  he  and  his  friends 
had  often  sat  and  rested  after  their  long  rambles. 

Two  of  his  friends,  who  then  came  from  a  dis 
tance  to  honor  his  memory,  have  since  joined  him 
in  the  higher  mansions  —  Rev.  Dr.  Teal,  of 
Elizabeth,  New  Jersey,  who  began  his  ministry 
at  Cornwall,  and  was  for  twenty  years  my 
brother's  intimate  friend;  and  Mr.  Hamilton 
Gibson.  Both  of  these  men  were  stricken  down 
suddenly,  as  was  my  brother. 

I  cannot  close  these  reminiscences  better  than 
by  quoting  from  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott's  eloquent 


232     THE  TABLET  AND   MEMORIAL  ADDRESS 

Memorial    Address,    given    that    day  upon    my 
brother's  work  as  a  writer. 


"  It  is  of  the  latter  aspect  of  his  life  I  wish  to 
speak  for  a  few  moments  only,  in  an  endeavor  to 
interpret  his  service  to  the  great  American 
people  by  his  pen  through  literature.  The  chief 
function  of  the  imagination  is  to  enable  us  to 
realize  actual  scenes  with  which  we  are  not 
familiar.  This  is  an  important  service.  It  is 
well  that  you  who  live  in  these  quiet  and  peace 
ful  scenes  should  know  what  is  the  wretchedness 
of  some  of  your  fellow  beings  in  the  slums  of  New 
York.  It  is  well  that  your  sympathies  should  be 
broadened  and  deepened,  and  that  you  should 
know  the  sorrow,  the  struggle  that  goes  on  in 
those  less  favored  homes.  But  this  is  not  the 
only  function  of  the  imagination,  nor  its  highest 
nor  most  important  function.  It  gives  us  enjoy 
ment  by  taking  us  on  its  wings  and  flying  with 
us  away  from  lives  which  otherwise  would  be 
prosaic,  dull,  commonplace,  lives  of  dull  rou 
tine  and  drudgery.  But  this  also  is  not  the  only 
nor  the  highest  use;  God  has  given  us  imagina 
tion  in  order  that  we  may  have  noble  ideals  set 
before  us,  and  yet  ideals  so  linked  to  actual  life 
that  they  shall  become  inseparable.  He  has 
given  us  imagination  that  we  may  see  what  we 


TABLET    ON   BOULDER   IN    "ROE    PARK." 


THE  TABLET  AND   MEMORIAL  ADDRESS     233 

may  hope  for,  what  we  may  endeavor  to  achieve 
that  we  may  be  imbued  with  a  nobler  inspira 
tion,  a  higher  hope,  and  a  more  loving,  enduring 
patience  and  perseverance.  Realism,  which  uses 
imagination  only  to  depict  the  actual,  is  not  the 
highest  form  of  fiction.  Romanticism,  which 
uses  the  imagination  only  to  depict  what  is  for  us 
the  unreal  and  impossible,  is  not  the  highest 
form  of  fiction.  That  fiction  is  the  highest  which 
by  the  imagination  makes  real  to  our  thought  the 
common  affairs  of  life,  and  yet  so  blends  them 
with  noble  ideals  that  we  are  able  to  go  back 
into  life  with  a  larger,  a  nobler,  and  a  more 
perfect  faith. 

"Now  Mr.  Roe's  fiction  has  been  very  severely 
criticised,  but  it  has  been  universally  read. 
For  myself  I  would  rather  minister  to  the  higher 
life  of  ten  thousand  people  than  win  the  plaudits 
of  one  self-appointed  critic.  And  his  novels 
have  been  universally  read  because  they  have 
uniformly  ministered  to  the  higher  life  of  the 
readers.  He  has  ministered  to  the  life  not  of  ten 
thousand,  or  of  one  hundred  thousand,  but  of 
thousands  of  thousands,  for  his  readers  in  this 
country  alone  are  numbered  by  the  millions. 
And  I  venture  to  say  that  no  man,  woman,  or 
child  ever  read  through  one  of  Mr.  Roe's  books 
and  arose  without  being  bettered  by  the  reading, 


234     THE  TABLET  AND   MEMORIAL  ADDRESS 

without  having  a  clearer  faith,  a  brighter  hope, 
and  a  deeper  and  richer  love  for  his  fellow  man. 
In  one  sense  he  was  a  realist.  He  made  careful 
and  painstaking  study  of  all  the  events  which  he 
attempted  to  describe.  .  .  .  He  was  not  a  mere 
photographer.  He  saw  the  grandeur  that  there  is 
in  life.  He  felt  the  heart  that  beats  in  a  woman's 
bosom  and  the  heart  that  beats  in  a  soldier's 
breast.  He  felt  it  because  his  own  heart  had 
known  the  purity  of  womanhood  and  the  courage 
of  manhood.  He  portrayed  something  of  that 
purity,  something  of  that  courage,  something  of 
that  divine  manhood,  because  he  possessed  the 
qualities  that  made  him  a  hero  on  the  battlefield, 
and  so  made  him  a  preacher  of  heroism  in  human 
life.  This  is  the  man  we  have  come  here  to 
honor  to-day;  the  man  who  by  his  imagination 
linked  the  real  and  the  ideal  together ;  the  man 
who  has  enabled  thousands  of  men  and  women  of 
more  prosaic  nature  than  himself  to  see  the  beauty 
and  the  truth  —  in  one  word,  the  divinity  — •  that 
there  is  in  human  life. 

"It  is  fitting  that  you  should  have  chosen  a 
rural  scene  like  this  as  a  monument  to  his  name; 
for  he  may  be  described  by  the  title  of  one  of  his 
books,  as  the  one  who  lived  near  to  nature's  heart. 
He  loved  these  rocks,  these  hills.  It  is  fitting 
that  you  should  have  left  these  woods  as  nature 


THE  TABLET  AND   MEMORIAL  ADDRESS     235 

made  them.  He  cared  more  for  the  wild  bird  of 
the  grove  than  for  the  caged  bird  of  the  parlor, 
more  for  the  wild  flowers  than  for  those  of  the 
greenhouse,  more  for  nature  wild  and  rugged 
than  for  nature  clean  and  shaven  and  dressed  in 
the  latest  fashion  of  the  landscape  gardener. 

"  It  is  gratifying  to  see  so  many  of  all  ages,  of 
all  sects,  of  all  classes  in  this  community  gather 
to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Roe.  But  we, 
many  as  we  are,  are  not  all  who  are  truly  here. 
We  stand  as  the  representatives  of  the  many 
thousands  in  this  country  whose  hours  he  has 
beguiled,  whose  labors  he  has  lightened,  whose 
lives  he  has  inspired,  and  in  his  name  and  in 
theirs  we  dedicate  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Roe 
these  rocks  and  trees  and  this  rugged  park  and 
this  memorial  tablet  now  unveiled.  Time  with 
its  busy  hand  will  by  and  by  obscure  the  writing; 
time  will  by  and  by  fell  these  trees  and  gnaw 
away  these  rocks.  Time  may  even  obliterate  the 
name  of  E.  P.  Roe  from  the  memory  of  men ;  but 
not  eternity  itself  shall  obliterate  from  the  king 
dom  of  God  the  inspiration  to  the  higher,  nobler 
and  diviner  life  which  he  —  preacher,  writer, 
soldier,  pastor  and  citizen  —  has  left  in  human 
life." 


A 


j*. 


L~.*A—  . 
^* 


Q,      I?.  . 


-r- 


^ 


/WJU 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NQV  2  6 1976 


Form  L9-257n-8,'46  ( 9852 ) 444 


000118293 


